casa coniglio

Fountain at TMH

When I moved to a new house a year and a half ago, it was goodbye to Casa Coniglio. I had just gotten the garden to about where I wanted it to be (a garden is NEVER “finished”), and I had assembled a collection of my favorite plants, some of which were collections of my own seed-grown plants, or hybrids, such as Echinocereus triglochidiatus (Claret Cup Cactus), which I grew from a packet of seeds from Plants of the Southwest, and were just becoming large enough to have a good display of flowers.  It should have been no surprise to me that I fell into a funk when I moved to The Modern House, which has none of my choice plants. It does have a much larger garden space (0.45 acre, which might not seem like that much to some people, but compared to my previous 0.16 acre, it is luxurious). Most of the last 18 months has been working on fixing broken things such as repairing damaged walls, repainting, fixing the heating system and plumbing fixtures. The garden is slowly moving along, after having removed a number of dead and dying trees. Anything new requires first the removal of the old. I’m finally starting to get in some plants that I like. But Casa Coniglio is now long gone, and now I’m working on The Modern House Garden (TMHG).

We call it The Modern House because of the dozens of houses we looked at in this land of Pueblo-style homes and Territorial style homes, this house had distinctly modern features. It certainly is not modern as you would imagine Modern style, and it is far from being as Modern as other houses in this neighborhood. It does not have steel doors and aluminum window frames for example (not that a modern house has to have these, but it is something that I think of). If this house were in Los Angeles, it would be considered an adobe, or maybe a modernistic adobe. But for identification purposes, we called it The Modern House during our house hunt, and now I can’t think of it as anything else. Perhaps I should call it The Semi-Modern House, or The Modern Adobe House. But no, TMH it remains.

Recently, I’ve been thinking about my blog. To start a new one or not? Do I still need a garden log? I have iPhoto. Is it still useful for me? Is it still useful for others? Can I still use it to help expand the gardening consciousness of New Mexico? Is TMH useful to investigate this? Maybe, maybe not. We’ll see.

For my last shot of the year, Neostylus Lou Sneary 'Bluebird' has conveniently opened its flowers. I don't mean to make my blog about orchids, but that's what is blooming now, when there's nothing in the garden. Neostylus is a intergeneric cross between my favorite Neofinetia falcata and Rhynochostylus coelestis. It's a cross of two fragrant species. I've blogged about Neo previously, since I've been growing it for a dozen years or so. I rave about it's ease of growth, graceful flowers and delicious scent.

I've never grown Rhyncostylus since it grows too large for my space. It has a similar monopodial growth habit, but I've always thought that it was finicky since the plants I've seen always seem to have wrinkled leaves, and few roots. It is fragrant, some say of grapes, which is a close enough description. The flowers have some color, blue to pink.

Neostylus Lou Sneary 'Bluebird' has characteristics of both, being larger than Neofinetia, and smaller than Rhyncostylus. The flowers are easily double the size of my Neo's. I've had my 'Bluebird' almost a year, and it seems almost as easy to grow as Neo, although without daily misting, the leaves wrinkle like its Rhycho parent. I've heard it said that the cross doesn't have much in the way of fragrance, however, and that 'Bluebird' is an exception. A wonderful exception it is, with the creamy vanilla fragrance from Neo and a hint of grape from the Rhynco. It is also mouth-wateringly fragrant both day and night.

Brassavola Little Stars has obligingly opened its flowers precisely on Christmas day. I wasn't sure if I had lost all my Little Stars during my move last year, as I had had to throw out all my big plants and only saved a few tiny divisions. The two cross-country moves were not good for my plants and Little Stars was not an exception. All the plants sat for months, with no growth. I placed them in my orchidarium, and all the plants started to grow roots, and flower buds. They are late, though, usually opening for Thanksgiving, and the plants are not looking as strong as previous years. I'm wondering if I should remove the flowers so that the plants can save energy for growth in the coming year.

If I had to choose one orchid to grow and was not able to grow any others, it would be a tough choice between Brassavola  Little Stars and Neofinetia falcata. Both are tough, easy-to-grow orchids, with white flowers and an intoxicating fragrance. Fortunately I don't have to choose, and Little Stars blooms in the winter, and the Neo's bloom in the summer. Unfortunately, I don't see Little Stars for sale much any more.

Happy Winter's Solstice! As a plant person, I've always felt the significance of Winter's Solstice, the shortest day of the year. Although it's the beginning of winter, it is also the beginning of the return to spring, with the promise of lengthening days. Today is a reminder that winter is really here, with a winter storm blasting its way through. Driving home from work, the visibility was about 5 feet in spots. The car in front of me was nearly blown off the road, but managed to hang on at the last second. So this photo was about all I was willing to do, and appears misleadingly calm. Rosemary 'Frimley Blue' has survived the cold of winter without much trouble, but the thin sparse branches don't hold up to the snow very well. Here it is lit by the landscape lighting.

It's much nicer being indoors, where my tree is finally decorated. After sitting undecorated for weeks, we finally stayed up late last night to do some tree trimming. It's not done yet (the glass icicles aren't up, the tree skirt needs to be placed, and I wish I had more polar bear ornaments), but the madness has to stop somewhere. Since the evergreen tree is a pagan symbol, it had to be done enough by today. I've felt guilty about killing trees (and still do) but tree farms are supposed to be a good thing for the environment. Even though they are monocultures, I've read that they are long term projects that provide habitat, erosion control.

I caught myself this morning feeling sorry for the rest of my family who live in California and who don't get to have wintry scenes like I get from my bathroom window.

I'm buying a new house. Again. Not this house. This is the house that I almost bought, but the sale fell through for a strange reason at the last moment. It's been very trying and part of the reason why I haven't been posting much lately (the other reason, is simply the season and being very busy at work). But comparing the first house to the one that I am now expecting to buy, has me thinking. As much of a plant person and a garden person as I am, I still say that I am buying a house (gasp!).  I don't say that I am buying a garden. It is a strange and unsettling realization that even I put the house first.

I'm certain that there are plant people who look at the garden first, and yes, when looking at houses, the first thing I do when I enter the property for the first time is make a beeline for the garden, and if that passes muster, then I look at the rest of the house. I'm not necessarily looking for a perfect garden, but a garden that has the right potential for what I want to do (grow lots of plants).

So it is a bit of a shock to me, that I am buying a house. The house that I'm expecting to buy has very little in the way of garden despite being on more than half an acre, which is a bit of a disappointment (the garden, not the lot size), given that the first house had three gardens (and a smaller lot size). I'm buying a house. I'm not buying a garden. It's freaking me out. Maybe I'm not such a garden person as I think I am. But of course, I'll make a garden. I always do.

Snow Spider

"If it has to be cold, at least we can have snow." That's what we used to say when I lived in Philadelphia. The snow makes everything beautiful. Plants I might have overlooked now take on a fresh look and catch my eye again. In Philly, we had to deal with snow shoveling, slippery ice, and gloomy days. Here, the snow lasts a day or two (or even just a few hours), then it is gone and the sunshine is back.