Robert's and Jasmin's Garden Paradise

[Robert]

Mid to late summer is a quiet time in our Sacramento garden when fewer plants are blooming and many bulbs and California native perennial species are dormant. However, our garden is not without flowers or plants of interest. Pictured is a new selection of Erythranthe guttata derived from seed gathered from the ditch in front of our Placerville farm. This selection put on a tremendous show of flowers this spring and still has a few flowers here in mid-August. In addition, this selection has produced many vigorous rosettes at the base of the plant, a very promising sign that this selection may have the capabilities to be a longer-lived perennial in our garden.



Some of our F3 generation Gilia capitata mediomonatana x pedemontana hybrids are still in active growth and producing more flowers. In contrast, most of the other Gilia capitata plants in our garden have finished blooming, produced seed and completed their annual life cycle. This line is showing continued progress and potential to extend the blooming season of this species.



A few of our F2 generation Monardella breweri ssp. lanceolata plants are also exhibiting the characteristic of an extended blooming cycle late into the season. As with the Gilia, most of our Monardella breweri ssp. lanceolata plants have finished their life cycle and are gone now. Seed has been saved from the extended blooming cycle plants and hopefully some of the F3 generation plants will continue to display this trait.



In this photograph one can see the many flower buds that are yet to open on some of the remaining Monardella plants.



Pictured is a F1 Habranthus robustus x Zephyranthes mesochlora hybrid. The upright stance of the flower is a characteristic of Zephyranthes suggesting that the plant is indeed a hybrid.

Habranthus and Zephyranthes species grow well in our Sacramento garden. We have few species in our garden. We are content making the best and being creative with what we have. I do have a small list of various bulbous species I would like to include in our garden. For me this is a very relaxed process. I am of the thinking that “when the student is ready the teacher will appear”, i.e. when I am ready, the plants I need for the garden will show up. I put very little effort into acquiring new plants and thus avoid the corruption of avariciousness and the damage it creates. The result is a contented gardener.

[Jasmin]:  It is now around 23 C, with a prediction of perhaps 35 to 37 later today.  So far, we have not had many 40 C days, which never hurts my feelings.
     Yesterday Robert was gathering and cleaning the Monardella seed, and the most distinctive scent from the plants wafted through the air.  It is not sweet like fresh mint; yet extremely pungent and not unpleasant or foul.  In late summer Centromadia pungens (Common Tarweed) fills the air with its presence especially if there is a thunderstorm or early rain, and this Monardella scent is similarly evocative.
     As for my relationship with the garden, I have to admit I am presently in a stupor.  After 10 months and 20 days of care, our precious Dariya cockatiel died, 28 July 2023.  We are simultaneously so thankful she was able to be with us, and her normal, joy-filled, happy self—She was kept comfortable, and content.  She did not suffer.  Yet, we still have shock, and sorrow; we so prayed she could rally and recover completely.  She has a place in the garden, and a rock placement is there.  At some point, the appropriate plants for this garden place will be planted.
     I find it interesting how our gardens evolve in a number of ways, depending on so many variables.  Some is climate, climate change, and location.  Some is who we know, how we obtain our plants, and whether we are tidy or not—as Mr. Ian Young points out in his latest Bulb Log Video Supplement.  Some of us are more relaxed about Nature, letting the birds and bees and plants do their thing for the most part.  Others prefer their garden to always look ready for the show bench display, to get the Farrer medal or some other prize.  Each has something to offer, each has something to appreciate.
     In our garden, it seems more Natural Evolution, with a hand thrown in once in a while—more similar to Mr. Young’s style, except that food crops are part of the ornamental display.  This is quite the evolution for Robert.  When he was younger, I remember the seed lists, and seed pans, and our race to see which of us would find the first signs of germination.  I do not know what amount of our changes are our aging, and what is sheer acceptance that the climate has radically altered since we married, among other factors.  We do realize there is only so much we can do, and perhaps a maturity and realism govern our choices now.  We no longer have the people we once had, who gave us parts of their garden—for better or for ill, those beloved thugs I have had to diminish lest they take over.  Yet, we have other opportunities and interests, such as local native flora.  Robert has always loved hybridizing, and the fun of exploring what traits will manifest, and this is a marvelous direction for his creative energy.  I am more like the river flowing along, meandering.  I am the one that looks at a place in the garden, such as Dariya’s resting place, and ponders the possibilities.  Sometimes a garden evolution begins with the plant and the rocks follow, or in this case the rocks come first.  After 52 years in this home, with this garden, I can remember an entire story—a story of my childhood, of beloved companion animals who found their resting place in the garden, of wild birds and wild life, of my young adulthood, and of my marriage and the journey Robert and I have taken together.
     Have you thought about the story your garden tells?  What does your garden say about your life and choices?  Do you have memories that reach back, emotional connections?  These are thoughts I gathered recently.  I have never been one to write in a diary or journal; yet, in a sense, I have:  the garden has been my journal, telling of my sojourn here on this earth.  If you could read it, you would know my heart.

[ashley]

... In our garden, it seems more Natural Evolution, with a hand thrown in once in a while
... After 52 years in this home, with this garden, I can remember an entire story—a story of my childhoodbrings , of beloved companion animals who found their resting place in the garden, of wild birds and wild life, of my young adulthood, and of my marriage and the journey Robert and I have taken together.
     Have you thought about the story your garden tells?  What does your garden say about your life and choices?  Do you have memories that reach back, emotional connections?  These are thoughts I gathered recently.  I have never been one to write in a diary or journal; yet, in a sense, I have:  the garden has been my journal, telling of my sojourn here on this earth.  If you could read it, you would know my heart.

Thank you Robert and Jasmin.

Jasmin, you express beautifully thoughts that resonate with me.  Our garden of (only) 30 years continues to evolve toward nature, but also reflects many aspects of our lives over that time that would be invisible to a visitor.  It has always given us great peace and contentment.  Despite horticultural 'failures' along the way, every day in the garden brings new delights and learnings.   

[Robert]

Ashley,

I appreciate your thoughtful comments. There are many facets to gardening, or perhaps it can said to be multidimensional. Our garden is so much more than beautiful flowers, trees and shrubs, or even food for the table. I know that this is true for many others. This is a central reason I am so keenly interested in other gardens and the stories they contain.

Thank you again for your mindful comments.

Today, 13 August, is watering day. Jasmin and I were up at 4:00 a.m. to get an early start with the watering before it got too hot. It was clear for most of the day with the temperature cresting at about 37 C. During the early evening dark clouds moved in from thunderstorms in the Sierra Nevada Mountains to the east. To our south near the city of Stockton some of the thunderstorms held together and there was rain in the Valley. This is not very common occurrence during the summer. As of 8:00 p.m. it is still overcast at our Sacramento home but no rain or thunder. The next few days we are expecting high temperatures in the 38 to 41 C range, then a cool down, maybe.

[Jasmin]:  Thank you for giving me a great idea!  In earlier submissions I have placed tours of our garden; additionally, in the past couple of years I included some past pictures of the garden here (at that time, under the heading “…in the Northern Hemisphere”).  I really have not considered a garden tour detailing a history and relationship with the garden and certain plants until now.
     Thirty years is still a substantial amount of time.  The age of the garden here is actually layered:  Some plants older than I am, and some planted when my family moved here 52 years ago and I was a girl.  The orange tree is at least the same age as I.  There are also representations of the many garden phases I have gone through as well:  The cottage garden, the wildflowers, and the herbs.  There was my vegetable garden the neighbor’s rabbit ate. 
     Once Robert and I married, the garden here has gone through even more exponential change, with additions, losses (both horticultural failures and climate change), removals of beloved thugs, and changing tastes and interests.
     Gardening as a creative endeavor is very interesting when married with a fellow gardener.  There are twice the opinions, and much more time spent pondering ideas.  Sometimes it requires more patience, and even fortitude to hold back, to restrain oneself:  Both Robert and I often think physically, placing something about to see the effect, and sit with it for a time.  This means not moving it without talking about it first.  It can appear like a chess game, except there is no checkmate, and each of us has a valid vision.  In some areas I have deferred to Robert because he does have more experience and knowledge; yet, I find myself surprised that I have also acquired quite a bit of my own along the way.  As with our Forum submissions, it is the synergy and combination of the two that creates the final effect. 

[Robert]

Here it is the end of August, the days are shortening, and the summertime heat appears to be winding down. High temperatures this summer have been average, with very few extremes. The only notable weather event this summer was Hurricane Hillary. As the remnants of Hillary moved to our east we received a few hundredths of an inch of rain and some gusty winds. In the Sierra Nevada Mountains, especially the east side received considerable amounts of rain and a great deal of thunderstorm activity.



The end of summer is the start of the harvest season. Our Sea Island cotton, Gossypium barbadense, is still blooming. Many cotton bolls have formed and it looks as if we will have a good harvest. Our climate is a bit dry for this cotton species as some plants suffer a great deal from spider mites. Others suffer little from spider mites; we save seed from these plants.



Our Duborskian rice, Oryzia sativa, is heavy with rice.



Our rice plants have responded well to a modified form of Masanobu Fukuoka’s direct seeding/non-cultivation methods. The rice plants are growing through a thick ground cover of White Clover. Once the rice is harvested the rice straw and chaff will be returned to the plot and winter barley will be planted.



As our ornamental garden awakens from it summer dormancy Epilobium canum ssp. canum is coming into bloom. The plant pictured survived many years of abandonment at our Placerville farm. It is an exceptional form selected from the plants growing in the Wrights Lake region in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. I am very pleased that this selection was not lost. Now to bring it back to full health!

[Robert]

In our Sacramento garden Epilobium canum ssp. garrettii is performing well. I have been brave enough to grow some of our other native Epilobium species. They are notorious for being weedy. So far Epilobium ciliatum has bloomed all summer and shows on signs of being weedy in our Sacramento garden. It looks best blooming in the spring. The plants are very susceptible to rust. I will take some photographs when they are blooming next spring if they survive the rust.



Now that it is late August, colonies of Cyclamen hederifolium are coming into bloom.



Most of out Cyclamen hederifolium bloom in shades of pink and white. With some effort deeper shades of pink could be selected, however I am content letting them colonize as they wish.



Colchicum macrophyllum is the first Colchicum species to come into bloom in our Sacramento garden.



Colchicum macrophyllum has large bold foliage, which I appreciate greatly during the spring.

[Robert]

Colchicum autumnale is another early blooming species in our Sacramento garden.



Acis autumnalis is another harbinger of autumn. I have grown this species for decades; however lately I have begun to select and gather seeds from the plants I like the most. Some plants I like much more than others. We shall see where this goes.



Erythranthe lewisii x cardinalis hybrids have been around in the California nursery trade for many years. A number of years ago I started my own breeding program with the two species. Currently I have a wide range of color forms. This yellow form turned up this season. I still have much to accomplish with these hybrids. One goal is to select stronger, longer-lived, perennial plants. Plant habit and flower form are two other goals. The hybrids bloom for a long period of time during the late spring and early summer, so I do not mind having many in our garden.



This chance seedling of Salvia coccinea ‘Brenthurst’ appeared in one of the nursery pots I have in the garden. It is an exceptional plant, with larger flowers and a good clear bright pink color. This species is perennial in our Sacramento garden so I can grow it as a clone and save seeds and see what turns up.



The first new Salvia guaranitica hybrid is coming into bloom. Many more seedlings are budded and will start blooming shortly. I am getting good variation from this group of hybrids. They are already many Salvia guaranitica hybrids in the nursery trade here in California. It would be nice if something novel showed up, however my goal is to have fun and leave it at that.

[Robert]

[Jasmin]:  Right now at 11 am our time it is 27 C and expected to reach about 38 C.  We have a strong north wind, which brings smoke from the wildfires in Northern California and Southern Oregon to our area.  We have a fire watch all through the valley, since there is extremely low humidity—8%.  Combined with the heat and strong winds, the fire danger is elevated.
      In the past, July and August were the hottest months, and we could count on September having a weekend with the extreme heat but finishing cooler.  I no longer have the confidence in this old pattern anymore, and will not be surprised to see a continuation of heat.  All I have to do is look at the satellite images of ocean temperatures and the extreme weather happening everywhere to suspend my ability to predict what might be next.
     It is this loss of ritual and routine I feel keenly, and it causes disorientation.  We all crave predictability, the comfort of the illusion of unchanging patterns in our lives.  How much ambiguous loss do we all have, that we are unaware of, we just feel out-of-sorts with some vague unease that we brush off yet it niggles us?
     When there is a birth, graduation, or death, most times we have rituals to mark these events; the pain of certain changes and losses can flare up like an arthritic knee on a rainy day.  Yet, here we are confronted by changes and losses that we sense, but have yet to name or enumerate.  It is grief for plans that must change to meet the new situation, a loss of certainty, of the image for the future that was so planned for.  It is a true reminder that all we really can know is this moment, and savour it.
     I cannot call it a plan, all the changes that have taken place in this garden throughout my life. 



     When my parents and I first moved here, there were traditional rose beds, and crabapples.  My father planted the sweet Navel orange tree, and began a vegetable garden.
     I was a shy, quiet child.  I was more inclined to read books, a habit I still indulge in liberally.  Yet, in my sense of solitude, I found comfort with the plants.  I was not a tree-climber; rather I would find solace snuggled up to the trunk of a favorite tree, of which this photo shows one.  A good book and a tree, and all was well.  I do not think gardening was anything that occurred to me, that I would partake in.
     Many decades later Robert and I started our first rock garden experiment near this apricot tree, planting it with Lewisias and other things I cannot remember now!  The whole business we had to undo and reconfigure elsewhere when the mother tree reached the end of her life.  We called her Queen Hunsa, for she was very old, having been a grown tree when my parents and I moved here.  We have her “daughter”—a cutting grafted onto the plum rootstock—is in a bed forward and left, and two vegetable beds are where the mother tree once was.  For many years the mother tree had a hollow underneath, a squirrel hole, and I had placed things in that hole.  It was like finding and opening a time capsule.



     It was more wild in the area then; I find it reassuring when the wildlife pass by.  We still see the white turkey from time-to-time, whether the original, or some daughter of hers.  Various raptors still call about the neighborhood that has since filled in.  The proximity of the river guarantees you might be pleasantly surprised while out in the garden.

[MarcR]

Jasmin,

I enjoy the way you express yourself!  It reminds me of reading Louisa May Alcott.

[Robert]

Dear Mr. Marc,
     Thank you so much for your kind encouragement.  It has been many years since I read Ms. Alcott, perhaps fourth or fifth grade!  Mr. Ashley’s comment in August gifted me the opportunity to ponder my many years here, and the changes that have evolved.


     Right now at 5:12 p.m. it is 26 C.  The past couple of weeks we have been the border area for some unpredictable weather.  First, the edge of the remnants of Hurricane Hillary zipped past.  The bulk of this system hit Southern California and shot up the middle of Nevada, largely missing us.  This latest system appears to be the remnants of a typhoon that impacted Japan a week to ten days ago.  This proved to be more interesting, with build-ups and thunderstorms, particularly in the foothills and higher mountains.  Rain was spotty here; yet Sunday is our watering day, so we had raingear on as we watered, since the rain was insufficient for the garden.  The dramatic cooling we have had the past several days, combined with the shortening of day length; however means we are able to water a bit less.  It is also the end of watermelons and cucumbers, my summer foods of choice for refreshment.
     Although the Cyclamen and Colchicums are now blooming, there is always this lull in the garden bloom-wise; yet there is plenty of activity.  It is so easy to stick to the usual, photographs of what looks good in the garden.  While that is appreciated, many months can pass before anything “worthy” finds its way onto the Forum.
     Our gardening style seems to fit in with Mr. Young’s “messy” natural approach—however, I am feeling more negligent than creative at the moment.  Yet, I shall close with the bright welcome to Autumn, Colchicum macrophyllum.

[Robert]

[Jasmin]:  Today is 20 C, which for many of you would still feel like summer.  However, yesterday was the first official day of autumn, and combined with the longer nights and the chill in the breeze indicates weather changes are on the way.  Monday night there is a forecast for a slight 20% chance of rain.  Until the rains truly arrive, I still wake at 4 am to get the garden watered on the permitted day and during the allowed timeframe.  I strive to have all this done before I uncover the birds for the day.  Unlike my sweet husband, I am not clinging to any rock faces botanizing.

Even a light rain would clear the air of the murkiness.  Smoke from distant fires has settled throughout the valley, being more concentrated to our south.  The dinginess we live with is not adequately photographed.  However, it does give me an opportunity to share with you the effects of temperature and xenobiotics in the garden.  It is not a lovely sight.

You will recall Azalea ‘Orangeade’ from this past April.



Although the leaf color is pale, which I associate with many years of climate stress, it is still blooming well. 



The most recent picture shows the lines of chlorosis and some dieback.  In past years it already would have been cold enough to have autumn color; however, the leaves loose their green in the heat but there is no chill to turn the dying leaves those beautiful reds, oranges, and golds.



The dieback is something we see repeatedly, as can be seen with this azalea, which once towered over my head and was an explosion of spring and autumn color.  The plant’s fate hangs in the balance:  In some instances there will still be vigorous growth at the base, and abundant flower buds, so the plant endures in the garden. 



In other instances, as can be seen with this Rhododendron maddenii type hybrid, the plant will continue to die a little at a time over the years.  For some plants, this is a slow progression toward death. 



So the garden looks like it might be a graveyard, or soon.  We have indeed lost a great many plants this way.  However, we never have the heart to just yank the dear plant out until it is really, truly dead.  We always end up with surprises, where the plant actually recovers, or an azalea we thought dead and gone decides to sprout from some mysterious root that was still alive down in the ground, as in the case of Azalea ‘Mirte’.

[Robert]

Japanese maples go through this similar progression, and we have yet to detect a pattern beyond the obvious:  Many plants are sensitive to both xenobiotics, and to the lack of winter chill.  It is impossible to discern which aspect, or the combination is behind these effects.  Here is ‘Ukigumo’, with one branch dead already; its summer full of the slow progress of death.  The rest of the tree is still verdant, but none of the three trees show any autumn color.



In contrast, California native plants such as this Buckeye (Aesculus californica) have spent the entire summer looking pitiful and partly dead.  This is their natural, healthy appearance!  They leaf out with the rains, and flower in the spring.  In the summer they have nothing more than their seed capsules and pods, awaiting the next rains, if the plant has not yet dehisced its progeny.  In the wild, the California Buckeye looks like a dead tree with dull golden Christmas baubles clinging to its limbs.

Walking through our garden is its own botanical experience, since some of the plants look dead and are supposed to, while others are dying when they are meant to be at their peak yet are clearly not entirely happy. 

It would be easy to lament the situation, looking at the garden, for the plants we lose and their slow, ugly demise; however, there actually is simultaneously a certain pleasure:  At this juncture, I can derive great satisfaction for no other reason than I actually discern and know the difference.  Robert’s botanical knowledge and experience have always surpassed my own.  When it comes to marriage and gardening, these things did not osmotically incorporate into my being.  It would be too easy to leave him the garden, and defer to his predilections; however, that is not the case, and not how decisions are made here.  We both have equal voice, and equal vision, and creating our garden as a unit despite our differences is one of the great pleasures that continues to enhance both our marriage and the garden.

[MarcR]

Jasmin,

One year of what used to be average rainfall can be very restorative, and can reverse much of the damage.

It may not happen; but, there is hope

[Robert]

In many ways our “spring” arrives in our part of Northern California during the autumn when the first significant rainfall of the winter rainfall season arrives and temperatures consistently drop and stay cool. At this time many of our native annual species germinate and start to grow. In addition, many of our native bulbous species also begin to grow. It is often amazing how quickly many of our bulbous species emerge from the ground after the first significant rainfall.

Pictured above is a flat of California native annuals planted out in soil blocks. This year we have many new and exciting species to trial in our Sacramento garden. Below are some photographs of the new species we are looking forward to in our garden this coming spring.



Diplacus kelloggii – We obtained seeds from a low elevation form of this species growing near Camp Creek, El Dorado County, California.



Some of the best forms of Diplacus torreyi can be found in Rocky Basin, El Dorado County, California. I was fortunate to arrive at the perfect time to gather seed of this species at this location.



I encountered an unusual form of Diplacus viscidus in the Caldor Fire burn scar area near Camp Creek this year. This population exhibited a great deal of genetic variability. In addition, the plants in this population did not exactly fit the botanical description of this species. They may represent a hybrid population. More study will be necessary.



There were pure white forms of Diplacus viscidus in this population.

[Robert]

Although quite common in the wild, Navarretia leptalea ssp. leptalea will be new to our garden this season.

In addition to the new native annual species for this season, we have a whole lineup of new hybrid bulbous species based on our native species found here in Northern California.

We have a great deal to look forward to this coming season.

[Robert]

Purple Needle Grass, Stipa pulcha, is starting to recolonize our Placerville property. 200 years ago this species likely grew abundantly on this property. Now only remnants of this species can be found in our area clinging to niches in the local chaparral plant communities. Offspring of these chaparral plants are also thriving in our Sacramento garden.



California Fescue, Festuca californica, is also reseeding on our Placerville property. This species is more often found in the California Coastal Mountains, however it is also native to the Sierra Nevada region. This species also seeds around freely in our Sacramento garden. Our native bunch grasses look perfect in our California style Mediterranean garden.



Currently I am planning outings for the coming season. The canyons and ridges of the Feather River region possess many fine species well suited for our California gardening conditions. Pictured is Fritillaria recurva with Ranunculus occidentalis var. occidentalis blooming in the Feather River canyon. Fritillaria recurva thrived at our Placerville property and domestic seed lines are being established for our Sacramento garden. We have a huge array of native species that just need some development to become outstanding plants for our Sacramento garden. Excellent progress is being made in this endeavor.



Narcissus elegans bloomed for the first time this October. The autumn blooming Narcissus species thrive in our Sacramento garden. These species are being incorporated into our Narcissus breeding projects. Preliminary results may take time, however the whole creative process is very enjoyable.