some local yellow daisies

As the big spring bloom winds down I’ve been struck by how many of the native plants have yellow flowers. It clearly offers the plants an evolutionary advantage since bees love yellow and bees are some of the major pollinators. This is a little roundup of the three yellow daisy-flowered shrubs and sub-shrubs that I grow.

Coast sunflower as you find it...at the coast.

Encelia californica hails from the more coastal edges of Southern and Central California, hence its common name of “coast sunflower.” A dark central button anchors golden yellow rays that shoot out in an informal circle. It’s a popular choice for both gardens flowering roadside wildflower mixes.

The green, green leaves of this encelia.

With so many other natives bearing grayish leaves, the bright green leaves of this plant really stand out. I’ve seen it used locally, where an occasional drink during the summer can help keep it green and flowering through the summer. In my garden the plants have a mostly unirrigated spot behind a fence, so they exercise their natural tendency to defoliate and stop blooming when the weather warms.

Giant coreopsis, Coreopsis gigantea, earns its name more from the tall plant size rather than the size of its flowers. The weird plant will eventually form what looks like a trunk from three to six feet tall that sprout finely-cut leaves. This takes a few years–My two year old seedlings are in the two to two and a half foot tall range. Blooms are perky yellow daisies about three inches across. I planted a little grove of these in a back corner of the garden, but the grove has dwindled to just a few plants thanks to a gopher that found the little tree trunks too delicious to pass up. Grrrr. Times like this I hate hate the full circle of nature.

This last one’s San Diego County sunflower. The current botanical name is Bahiopsis laciniata though I and everyone else I know around here learned its name as Viguiera lacinata. Its flowers come in at about an inch and a half across, so it’s smaller than the previous two. But a blooming bush of it makes a low, neat mound in the garden or in the local wilds. Of these three, the flowers have the most “refined” look to them–if you consider French marigolds and yellow cosmos to be refined plants. Because of it being a local plant it’s a fairly common denizen of local native plant gardens. Also, a lot of coastal-zone roadside restoration projects around here seem to have this plant in the mix.

Although I’ve call all of these “daisies,” each has its own special character and use in the garden. The encelia is a great pick for its long bloom when watered. The coreopsis is a perky mass of flowers when it’s in bloom, but few California natives stand up to it in weirdness during its leafless state in the summer and fall. The San Diego County sunflower is a nice tidy mound with so many flowers you might confuse it for an an annual. But it’s best to plant some decoy plants around it for the dry parts of year when it dies back.

Give them a try. The bees will thank you.

yet another (fun) total waste of time

Services that will print a custom fabric for you have been around for a little while. Now there’s Shortomatic, a firm that will take a design or photo that you upload and turn it into a pair of boardshorts–just in time for summer. Even if you don’t spring the $99 for the shorts, you can noodle around on their site and see what your photos might look like turned into clothing. I played a bit with some mostly garden photos:

The original photo, some variegated Agave americana at the Huntington Library’s desert garden…

…And the photo imagined as a pair of shorts using the Shortomatic design tool. These have a bit of a lederhosen/bondage vibe. I’m not sure I could pull off this look at the beach.

Here’s a photo from last summer of a sphinx moth hovering at night over some sage flowers.

…And the same photo turned into a pair of shorts.

A photo of the West Side of Los Angeles, taken from outside the gardens at the J. Paul Getty Museum on a cool, clear January afternoon.

Board shorts with the skyline used for a border at the base of the leg openings.

This is another succulent photo, using the “find edges” filter in Photoshop, a huge cliche if there ever was one. And then I took the photo and tilted it towards the red end of the spectrum.

And here’s what it looks like turned into shorts.

Oh good, another black hole where you can throw your spare time…

colleen goes national

Magazine coverColleen Miko, owner of the Pacific Northwest’s Colleen’s, a Landscape Design Company, has one of her garden designs featured in the current issue of Organic Gardening Magazine. In the interest of full disclosure I’m glad to say that Colleen also happens to be my cousin through a couple of fortunate marriage links in the family. She’s received well-deserved regional notice for her landscape work, but this is her first national print exposure. (Edit, May 19: Anyone with access to cable might have seen her on TV earlier, when she was the finalist in HGTV’s Landscaper’s Challenge program.)

Rah Colleen!

Here’s a peek at one of the spaces in her design. I like how the gently symmetrical plantings helps focus attention on the water feature. In other gardens, fountains and other focal points sometimes feel too small for the spaces they’re allotted. But Colleen’s strategy here gives greater visual weight to the burbling water and the area around it. The whiff of symmetry also brings visual calm that complements the calming sound of water. I’d love to spend some time in this space on a warm afternoon with a glass of Northwest riesling.

Pick up the June/July issue and see more of her work!

Green roof birdhouse

And be sure to pop over to Colleen’s website, where you’ll find other examples of her designs, as well as instructions on how to build this fun birdhouse with a green roof.

my favorite garden gadget

There are people who go gaga over gadgets, and then there are skeptical folks like me. If I buy gadget it really has to promise to do something I need it to do. (Case in point: I still don’t own an i-anything. No iPhone, no iPad, not even–gasp!–an iPod.)

But the gadgets in the garden that I really enjoy having are my two maximum-minimum thermometers. Imagine a device that tells you how hot and cold it got anywhere in your garden over whatever time period you like.

I have one in the greenhouse, where it tells me how hot the temperature got inside while I was at work. This is information you won’t get from a weather report.

You could also use a pair of them to identify microclimates around your yard and to answer specific questions like, Is the lower part of a slope more liable to get frost than the top? Or, how much temperature difference is there between the beds on the north and south sides of the house?

The versions I have are totally analog devices where the mercury in the thermometer pushes up a little piece of metal inside the glass column on both the warm and cold sides. To reset the thing you pull the metal pieces down from the outside using a magnet. Primitive, but effective, as befitting a device that was invented in 1782 by James Six.

Yes, I did say that the thermometers are filled with mercury. Mine are over twenty years old. Regulations in many places today would stipulate that the fluid be something more environmentally responsible, but the devices would function the same way. You can also get these in digital versions, as well as those that have a dial instead of fluid-filled glass chambers. (I generally find dial thermometers to be less accurate in general, however.)

There you have it. My favorite boring little device. You can’t use them to surf the web or make gelato. But then what use does a plant have with Hulu or Facebook?

21,015 tiny little plants

I now have a new appreciation for the work of field botanists.

A couple weekends ago I had a chance to work on a rare plant survey on the slopes of Viejas Mountain in eastern San Diego County. I enjoy seeing plants out in their wild habitat and the description of the task sounded downright idyllic: You go out to trailless edges of the county, enjoy the scenery, and all the while look for rare plants.

San Diego thornmint (Photo: Janet Franklin)

The plant of special interest for this trip was San Diego thornmint, Acanthomintha ilicifolia, a plant found only in a smattering of places in California and bits of northern Baja. And the plant is even more selective than that. It only grows on clay lenses–gently or moderately sloped areas of clay soil that has washed down from nearby areas. The surrounding chaparral plants for the most part don’t care for these soil conditions, so they create openings for this rare annual to colonize.

The project was to get a population count of thornmint from areas where they’d been sighted more than a decade earlier. Comparing today’s numbers against the earlier censuses would give you an idea of how well the plant is doing in the wilds.

Me, looking for thornmint, enjoying the scenery around my feet. (Photo: Janet Franklin)

Our assignment was population 51, a cluster of adjacent stands on the western edge of Cleveland National Forest, just outside the city of Alpine. (Looking back on the suburban sprawl I thought it looked a little like the photos of Area 51 taken from Freedom Ridge.)

Most of the spread had burned in one of the recent major wildfires to go through the county and was in the state of growing back—pretty successfully, since travel got to be tough some of the day. Whenever the chaparral parted and the soil conditions looked right, you scoured the ground for thornmints, which at this point in their lifecycle were mostly 1-4 inches tall, with most of them not yet in bloom.

No thornimint at this one sub-location, but lots of Palmer's grappling hook, Harpagonella palmeri, one of the species that's commonly associated with thornmint. (Photo: Janet Franklin)

One of the three sub-populations we looked at was completely gone. Nada. Zero plants. Maybe the fire wiped them out. Maybe we weren’t observant enough, though we fine-tooth combed the hillside.

Success--thornmints! (Photo: Janet Franklin)

But the other two populations gave us an exercise in counting plants. Lots and lots of plants. Tiny, tiny little plants.

By the middle of the afternoon we had a count, 21,015 plants. It was six hours of open slopes with no shade spent in deep concentration looking for the little plants, counting all the while.

I’ll confess: We did a little estimating when the populations got really large, and so we didn’t actually physically count all 21,015 plants. But 21,015 seemed like a solid estimate.

While it’s good to know that there are more than a handful of plants left in the wild, it’s also a little unnerving to see that they have such a limited distribution, and more disturbing that one of the three populations from earlier seemed to have vanished.

Locally common, but in the grand scheme of things, awfully rare, especially with human encroachment from Area 51 next door.

Hesperoyucca whippleii, one of the stunning garden subjects shown here in the wilds, with thronmint nearby. (Photo: Janet Franklin)

San Diego thornmint probably won’t turn into one of the great garden plants for California native gardens. But along the way we saw plenty of species closely related to those used in home native landscapes: laurel sumac (Malosma laurina), ceanothus (tomentosus and foliosus), stinging lupine (Lupinus hirsutisimmus), manzanita (one of the Arctostaphylos glandulosa subspecies)…

Blue-eyed grass (Sisyrinchium bellum) growing on a clay lens. (Photo: Janet Franklin)

…and one of my favorite flowering natives: blue-eyed grass, growing and blooming among the tiny little thornmints.

Usually my camera is the first thing I pack for one of these outings, but somehow I forgot it at home this time. My thanks to team-leader Janet for the use of her images from the trip!

my new composter

I often get the impression that to get your ticket punched as a real, serious gardener you have to take up composting. Still, I gave up on polishing my halo a dozen years ago. The old-fashioned compost pile I had took way more maintenance than I was interested in…all the hassles, especially keeping the beast stirred and watered.

Since those days tumbling composters have really come into their own as an alternative to the piles that just sit there like Uncle Ervin on his Barca-Lounger in front of the TV. The promise of a compost device that simplifies keeping the mix stirred and aerated sounded almost too god to be true, but I’ve been tempted to give them a twirl.

The opportunity came up as I headed to the back aisles at Costco to pick up some cheese and bread. On my way to the back of the store a big tumbling composter tried to reel me in with its dark tractor beam.

The thing with this store is that you usually have your choice of the one item they offer for sale, which in this case was the 80-gallon Lifetime model 60021 tumbling composter. (Costco offers several other models online.) Even with a price tag less than $100 I resisted at first. But I went home and did a little research online. Judging by the customer reviews people generally seemed to like this model, with the main complaint being being about an internal aerating tube that kept getting bent because it was made out of PVC. It seemed like a valid but relatively minor concern, so I decided to give the composter a try.

The composter in its box, as it looks when you bring it home.

When you buy this model, you’re really buying a composter kit, not an assembled composter. I documented the time I started, before I opened the box, before I assembled the necessary tools (which ended up requiring–among other things–an electric drill and socket wrenches), before I read the instructions that recommended that it would take two adults to assemble it. John is still hobbling around on crutches right now, so I decided to go it alone.

The time when I completed assembling it.
The time right before I began to open the box.

From the documented end time you can see that it took me about an hour and fifty minutes to put it together. That includes time spent taking a few pieces apart after I’d installed them incorrectly, as well as a few minutes when John came out to supervise my work and ogle the new toy. I’m generally pretty handy with mechanical things, if a little impatient to read all the way through instructions. I also did okay hefting the big 65 pound box the kit came in, and had the added benefit of a power screwdriver. Adjust your expectations for assembly time and effort accordingly.

The inaugural kitchen scraps.
The assembled composter.

Things fit together easily and made for a sturdy, double-walled, insulating composting chamber. Apparently the company read the customer complaints about the PVC aerating tube, because by the time they made my version of the model, the flimsy internal part had been replaced with a rigid piece of perforated metal pipe.

I couldn't resist doing a little trimming of plants around the garden. On even its first day, the composter is well on its way to being filled. The cuttings and kitchen scraps will cook down over time, making room for more waste.

The composter now lives outside the kitchen, alongside the trashcans and recycle barrels. It shouldn’t be hard to keep the compost barrel fed and tumbled. Once the barrel is filled it’ll need a few weeks for the compost to cook to perfection, a time when you shouldn’t be feeding it more clippings and scraps. To do things right, having a second barrel at the ready for those times would be the way to go. Within a few weeks I should have a better idea whether this model of composter lives up to my expectations and warrants my buying a second one.

So, will I become a real, serious, composting gardener? I’d say it’s off to a good start.

well endowed landscaping

Here’s a little weekend quiz: Any guesses as to where I took this picture?

Does this second photo help?

Clue #1: It’s in Los Angeles.

Clue #2: It’s a university campus.

Clue #3: The school colors are echoed in the flower colors of the landscaping.

If you’re not into universities and their colors the answer is USC, the University of Southern California, where the planting color scheme features the campus colors of cardinal and gold. If you were to ask me for my opinion I’d offer that they’re probably fine colors for football uniforms but a little strident for most garden situations if they were the only colors you used. But the entire campus was vibrating with new plantings of red salvias and yellow-orange marigolds, with a few leftover winter plantings of pansies in similar colors.

I mentioned the plantings to one of the campus regulars I was up there to meet with. Apparently USC has an endowment (by what was probably an enthusiastic alumnus) to supply bedding plants in the school colors.

From the themed seasonal color, to the lawns, to the hedges, to the fanatically clipped creeping fig around the Romanesque windows, to the trees planted in regimented rows, it’s so not my philosophy of gardening.


Trees (and campus buildings) providing cooling shade
A flowering canopy, dozens of feet overhead

But for an urban campus set where the warm season is just that, the tall trees provide welcome shade and the many benches set in the plantings make for opportunities to sit and hold conversations. And the style of the landscape seems to come straight out of a tradition of how a campus should look: neat, orderly, with a sense that many things of worth come from Europe.

My parents met on this campus way back when. Looking at the comfortable but formal plantings, I think I that can understand them a little better, the attitudes where they came from. Lifting my gaze to take in the tall sycamores, the mature magnolias, I know that many of these trees were here when my parents attended the campus.

But as far as the team-themed bedding plants–Were they here then? I’m not so sure. I’ll have to ask my father about them, though it’s not the sort of detail he’s likely to remember.

A few plantings flaunted colors other than the official school ones. The trees and lawns featured green, of course, and here and there you’d find a non-conforming cluster of plants. I end with a couple final shots of those.

Another renegade planting that didn't get the cardinal and gold memo...

Acanthus mollis, not a sign of cardinal or gold