It's official. I've completely lost control of the keyhole garden.
Grandpa always said "plant onions on the first day of spring, harvest them on the first day of fall." But here in the southwest, the first day of winter and summer are more like it.
An aeonium in the new succulent garden I'm creating. The light through the yucca tree hit it in just such a way to bring together the colors and symmetry in an almost hypnotic display.
You’d think as a snake that eats rattlesnakes, most of the other members of the reptile kingdom would give a king snake plenty of room. But then again, you're probably not a teenage western fence lizard.
Common sense would tell you that plants don't have feelings, but I have a true story of a kiwi's love, loss and new life that might change your mind.
The other day a neighbor who's an avocado grower, brought us some rare Don Gillogly avocados from his private grove. It's a dwarf Haas variant with creamy, club-shaped fruit.
Late last spring I got a Salvia Bee's Bliss from my friend @linsaycrazyplantlady's nursery. I planted it near the rocks by the fish pond and left it do its thing. Turns out there were a couple of giant white squill bulbs lurking below the surface in that location that I had forgotten. In November the squill erupted from the ground, leafed out, and completely covered the Bee's Bliss. And so I forgot about the little sage. Yesterday while doing some [keep reading...]
This is Salvia Pozo Blue (Salvia clevelandii X leucophylla) a hybrid of two So Cal natives, Purple Sage and Cleveland Sage. I picked it up about two years ago from La Pilatas Nursery, a native plant specialist not too far from here. It's leaves resemble the Cleveland Sage's leaves, but they're spaced farther apart on leggy stems like the Purple Sage. The smell is a woodsy must akin to the Cleveland Sage. I like the plant because it makes a [keep reading...]
We're just a week away from November and it's so hot even the plants in the pond are wilting. It's 96° and 13% humidity outdoors. In the greenhouse it's even worse. 111° and 1% humidity. Not that this is unusual. We usually get one last heatwave right around this time. But, dang. all those seedlings I planted are going to fry.
"You've got to try these!" a friend of mine who works at a nursery said. "They're San Diego Tomatoes and they saved San Diego!" From what they saved San Diego I have no idea (and neither did my friend), but they're a tasty mid-sized slicer and boy do they like growing in San Diego. This photos shows the haul from just two tomato plants.