casa coniglio

It’s hard to beat Russian Sage (Perovskia atriplicifolia). What other plant has this beautiful lavender blue color, for months at a time, with such a rugged constitution? This plant tolerates, even relishes, New Mexico’s climate. It laughs at both the blistering heat of summer and winter’s cold and dramatic temperature fluctuations. Dry? No problem. Rabbits and deer don’t touch it. The colors are beautiful in New Mexico’s landscape, the grey leaves look right at home, and the clouds of blue echo the big sky. It has a nice scent to its leaves. It is so tough that when a moving truck (one the big ones) ran over a planting where I used to live, after pruning it sprang back and was beautiful in a couple months. It’s no wonder that this plant is so widely used here.

But it’s not a perfect plant. Some problems exist. It attracts bees like crazy, which I happen to like, but it’s not such a great thing around pools or patios. Fortunately the bees are so excited by their find that they generally ignore people. It also doesn’t grow well in shade.

That ruggedness is a double-edged sword. What makes it so easy to grow and adapted to our climate means that it can fend for itself. Even somewhere we don’t want it. The seeds from my neighbor’s plant come up in cracks in the asphalt and in my yard, and those tenacious plants in less hospitable environments than a garden can look ratty. A sidewalk planting of Russian Sage near my house was made several years ago. The wild space across the road now has Russian Sage growing through the Chamisa, the Sphaeralcea, and Solanums. It’s actually rather pretty, but it makes me wonder if it will start invading our open spaces, crowding out the native plants.

Even more difficult to control are the plant’s suckers. Russian sage suckers like it is trying to take over the world. My neighbor’s plant sends suckers between cracks in the concrete block and asphalt, between the boulders and rock mulch, spreading from its original corner to 12 feet or more. The plant is resistant to Roundup. Digging out the suckers is a waste of time: a whole afternoon digging a trench around the plant and tracing each sucker only results in more suckers two weeks later. Although the fragrance is nice when the plant is brushed against, pulling the suckers makes the fragrance too much of a good thing, and its stickiness is hard to get off the hands.

You can control Russian Sage somewhat by planting with underground barriers (but it doesn’t stop seeds). It is also a great plant for urban areas where the root zone is restricted and the plant performs beautifully despite the harsh conditions. But there’s more to life than Russian Sage. As attractive as Russian Sage is, the idea of Albuquerque as a monoculture is not particularly appealing.

Admittedly, there isn’t much, if anything, that can compete with Russian Sage’s combination of beauty, color, long period of bloom, and water thriftiness. The commonly planted Caryopteris x clandonensis varieties come close. The coloring of the plant is similar, although the leaves are less silver. The mounding habit has a grace of its own, and the plants bloom for a couple months. It self-seeds in irrigated gardens, but seedlings are easy to pull and the plant doesn’t sucker. It requires slightly more water than Russian Sage, and comes in various shades. It also comes in golden leafed varieties (sickly looking in our climate).

The genus Salvia has many options. Although the native Salvia azurea blooms for only a couple weeks in the late summer to fall, the flowers more closely match the true-blue of New Mexico’s skies, instead of the lavender tone of Russian Sage. As the plant ages, the bloom time lengthens. The leaves are more green than grey, and the plant has a lanky, weedy appearance. This can be rather easily camouflaged with careful placement, for example behind silvery Artemesia filifolia, or Artemesia ‘Powis Castle.’ In my garden it needs almost no water, and self seeds modestly. Salvia chamaedryoides has similar flower color in a small rounded plant that can spread slowly through underground stems. It flowers heavily in spring, then off/on through summer depending on water availability. Leaves are silver and the plants require little water.

Despite my resistance, I’ve fallen for Salvia ‘Indigo Spires’ (shown above). It blooms continuously from early summer to fall with deep indigo flower spikes a foot or more long and medium green leaves. It grows to more than four feet tall and wide. My hesitance is that it needs regular irrigation and garden conditions to look its best. It also wilts pathetically in the afternoon in hot western or southern exposures even with irrigation, but pops back once the sun is off its leaves. Salvia pachyphylla (and the closely related Salvia dorrii) has bright blue-violet flowers, but with the reddish purple bracts, it appears more purple than blue. Grey leaves, long bloom period, and low water needs recommend these plants. The hybrid Salvia ‘Trident’ has impressive violet blue flowers in candelabras and silver leaves. So far in my garden it bloomed in the spring and requires little water. It rebloomed in the monsoon this year’s particularly wet weather. Leaves are wonderfully fragrant, but not as lusciously so as its parent S. clevelandii. Salvia lavandulifolia also has beautifully fragrant leaves, and these are showy spades of grey leaves. This woefully underused plant has pale lavender wands of flowers in spring. These last three sages retain foliage in the winter: an advantage over Russian Sage.

Don’t forget about the smaller Salvias such as S. nemerosa which has various varieties (including the popular ‘May Night’), dramatic spring bloom (earlier than Russian Sage) and reblooms if cut back and irrigated. Remember also the common culinary sage (Salvia officinalis) with its grey leaves and lavender wands in spring. It retains winter foliage as well.

The various blue Penstemons don’t really fill the same niche as Russian Sage, but should be thought of if blue is desired. Penstemon linarioides can have similar coloration, with leaves from silver to green, and flowers from a powdery lavender blue to dark violet. It blooms in early spring, long before Russian Sage. Some varieties will rebloom in the summer monsoon season.

Veronica incana has similar color and form as Russian Sage, but in a much smaller plant. The broad silver leaves an inch or so long reflect light and mostly remain in the winter, sometimes turning reddish. The light violet spikes of bloom appear in early summer and last for a few weeks. It requires a bit of irrigation. Other smaller plants with a similar color as Perovskia are the catmints, or Nepeta. There are a variety of forms and sizes. Check out the selections at Digging Dog Nursery for a bunch of (irresistable) options.

Why not think of common Rosemary for a location similar to Russian Sage? Rosemary has a lot going for it. The late winter/early spring blue flowers can cover the plants for many weeks, and in more shades of blue or white. It forms a similar size as Russian sage and requires little water, but remains green in the winter, rarely self-seeds and doesn’t sucker. Commonly found varieties include ‘Tuscan Blue,’ which has the deepest blue-violet flower color and green leaves, and ‘Arp’ with grey leaves and pale blue flowers. Worth searching for are ‘Irene’ with weeping habit and gorgeous violet flowers (unlike the pale flowers of the common ‘Prostratus’), ‘Blue Spires’ with sculptural upright growth and bright blue flowers, and ‘Gorizia’ with double sized pale blue flowers and green leaves. Some rosemaries reflower in the summer, given water.

I’m looking forward to seeing how Teucrium frutescens performs in my garden. This meditteranean shrub has oval silver leaves and a long blooming period of blue flowers similar to rosemary. Its rather open habit gives the shrub a delicate appearance.

It’s hard not to be impressed by the beauty of Russian Sage. After all, I can’t help but think that the ecologically toxic Lythrum in Minnesota is beautiful, too. But we have other options. Just as a single design is not appropriate for all spaces, we have many options. We may as well use them.

Magazines, for me, are one of the joys of life. There are some magazines that I have been reading since shortly after I was able to read. At that age I wondered why the editors bothered with trivial things like “Creating Strong Families!” or “Easy Ways to Teach Kids about Etiquette.” What a waste of space. What I wanted was more PLANTS!,GARDENS! I have home magazines, garden magazines, home design magazines, tropical fish magazines, spa magazines, orchid magazines and, of course, a multitude of dedicated plant and gardening magazines. But all of them are there to give me more PLANTS! GARDENS!

Some years ago, the neuroses got the better of me, and I started cataloging them. They are organized by year, and filed in order. If there is an issue missing, I know it. Maybe it’s an obsession, but at least it’s a harmless one. More harmless than buying every plant that catches my eye – but that’s another story.

Almost daily, I go to my magazine collection and randomly pull out an issue to thumb through. It’s like having an expanding Tarot deck. What will today bring? Ah, it’s Hellebore day. Today I should think more about modern design and glass in the garden. Today is a reminder of Tropicalismo.

Today’s cover blared: “Secrets of Southwest Gardens! (exclamation point added).” Secrets? Inside there were pretty pictures, and “elements” of typical Southwest gardens such as “Walls” and “Portals” and “Fountains” as well as more ambiguous “Eccentricity.” Where are the secrets? It had me thinking about other magazine articles: “Southwest Garden Secrets,” “Garden Design Secrets,” “The Secrets to Growing Great Roses,” “Four Great Garden Designers (learn their secrets),” and so on. I do realize that these are marketing schemes, but really now. Just like French cooking, there are secrets to Southwest gardening (e.g. shading seedlings, when to plant, irrigation), but what are the real secrets of great gardens?

Here’s my tip on the real secret of great gardens. Brace yourself. This may come as a shock, but this is something our clients need to know. Here it is: A great garden is hard work. “WHAT?” a magazine editor cries out, “that will never sell!” Well, the truth is a bitch, ain’t it? What our clients need to know is that there are a couple of ways to come by that hard work.

The first way is the most common way. That’s by trial and error. People first realize that they want a better garden. They go to the home improvement store and buy a few pretty plants. But after a few months, things don’t look as good as those magazine photos. They buy a few more plants. They move things around. Then build structures. Paving. Oops, forgot about irrigation. Oops, forgot about lighting. Oops forgot about drainage. And things are okay, but something is not quite right, and it’s very expensive to change paving and structures. It’s hard work to move all the plants out and work on land form, or drainage. But it’s less work than clearing out mud from the house. Then things get planned out, and sometimes it is good, sometimes it is not. Sometimes people realize they need to learn more about design, work on it, and things turn out great (or not). Don’t ask me how I know all of this.

Another way is to buy the work. Hire a professional, who has put in a lot of hard work in thinking about design. “Oh, but it is sooo expensive.” Is it more expensive than trial and error? How do you choose someone (“landscapers” as I have learned, have variable work quality and may have no design experience)? Is the guy at the home improvement store good enough (I’ll be polite and not tell you what the chances of that are)? What about those books with pre-made garden design (sure, if you want a cookie cutter design that may or may not work)? Time to do some research.

Either way, it’s a lot of work, and that’s not talking maintenance. Of course a house can be bought that already has a great garden. There is also an easy way out. And it looks like it. That ain’t no secret. ‘Nuff said.

Living in Albuquerque, one of the things about the landscape that I miss most is winter growth. That’s not to say that the winter landscape here doesn’t have it’s own charm and beauty. It is a quieter time. The wild space around my home is filled with the light tans of grasses, with a few spots of yellow green Juniperus monosperma and Nolina microcarpa, dark greens of Pinus edulis, all contrasting with the bright blue skies, dark mountains and fiery sunsets. But this expansive beauty doesn’t translate well into my postage stamp yard. A few Stipa neomexicana don’t make a rippling grassland.

But why not a garden of dormant grass textures? I imagine the bright yellow-tan of the dormant Stipa neomexicana, in waves behind Schizachyrium scoparium’s russet and red. Smaller blonde waves could be Aristida purpurea. Add the sparkle of Silver Beardgrass (Andropogon saccharoides) and the fluff of either Sand lovegrass (Eragrostis trichodes) or Indian Ricegrass (Oryzopsis hymenoides). For contrast, would it be over the top to add the evergreen blue fescue (Festuca ovina glauca) or the bigger Festuca idahoensis? For height and background, Calamagrostis x acutifolia ‘Karl Foerster’ can add its waving wands, faded to a pale shade by winter, or the similar but native Bull Muhly (Muhlenbergia emerslii). Switchgrass (varieties of Panicum) would add variety to this section of the garden, with fluffy panicles of seeds remaining through the winter, contrasting with the sheafs of wheatgrass (such as Elytrigia elongate ‘Jose Select’). Even taller, would be Sporobolus wrightii at up to six to eight feet tall. The possibilities are immense in this land of many beautiful grasses. This is a garden that I hope someday to implement somewhere. Not my own yard, though. I’m allergic to grasses and summer would be miserable. I would also long for some winter green.

In my sheltered courtyard, is my ‘California Dreaming’ garden. I realized this year that the herbaceous perennials left holes in the winter landscape, and ruined the effect, even though in the summer I could imagine that I am on the California coast, Provence or Italy. I’ll have to replace them with plants that retain winter leaves. The rosemary, lavender, culinary sage and cypress tree keep good form and leaf integrity. But the Salvia nemerosa will need to be replaced, perhaps with evergreen Euphorbia rigida or the low growing blue snakes of Euphorbia myrsites or even the blue tufts of Dianthus which have the advantage of fragrant flowers, but the disadvantage of being attractive to rabbits. Veronica tauricula has similar winter leaf color as Lavandula x intermedia ‘Provence’ but as a two-inch tall shrublet and sky blue early spring flowers. Rabbits avoid it, and it is also amazingly drought tolerant. The evergreen leaves of Iris foetidissima are still a glossy green in the winter, even though its size will never match a Phormium.

My old rose ‘Madame Isaac Pereire’ has incredibly fragrant flowers, but the flowers burn in even the early summer sun, and the leafless winter branches make me sad. Maybe I’ll replace it with the evergreen Osmanthus heterophyllus which as holly-like leaves when young, changing to oak-like leaves as the plant matures. The fall flowers are deliciously fragrant. Another option is to replace it with Cistus x aguilarii which has done well on even the north side of my house, blooming in the early summer with irresistible four-inch white fried-egg flowers, and a wonderful foliage aroma. This could also replace the Caryopteris x clandonensis ‘Dark Knight’ which also has fragrant foliage, but is leafless in winter.

What about color for the xeric portions of the garden? It’s fun to look at gardens and the local landscape during the winter and find what provides winter structure. I don’t mean more Photinia, or‘Tam’ junipers, enough already (although Junipers such as J. scopulorum ‘Moonglow’, J. deppeana, or J. monosperma are awfully nice)! Native plants for winter green could include Opuntia (and the glorious winter purple of ‘Santa Rita’), Beargrass (Nolina species) retains good green in winter, as do various Yucca species. Pinus edulis of course provides that familiar great dark green if you want to take that risk, or try some of the other pines such as Limber pine. I’d forgotten about the rich green of snakeweed (Gutierrezia sarothrae), though it may need the brown flower stems trimmed to show the green. Turpentine bush (Ericameria laricifolia) retained good winter green in my yard last year, not as good this year. Many Penstemon retain leaves through the winter in various colors of blue (Penstemon palmeri), burgundy (Penstemon clutei), or dark green (Penstemon strictus). Many Eriogonum species retain grey leaves through the winter, but Eriogonum umbellatum can turn a rich burgundy. Cercocarpus breviflorus and Cercocarpus ledifolius keep olive green leaves in the winter.

It’s fun to design a garden with the Winter structure first. After all, Winter lasts for months and who wants the garden to be ugly for all that time? With all these choices, I can make my garden have lots of green, and plenty of color in the winter. I’ll have to give up the complaining.

It’s funny how life can bring you back full circle. It’s strange how childhood impressions run so deep, even if you fight them or ignore them. It’s been quite a few years since I made a “real” trip back to California, the place I was born and the place where I grew up. On most trips, I had been simply passing through in an airport, or in the bowels of a hotel in the conference rooms. It was this way partly by accident, partly by design. This trip, however, is partly for pleasure, a trip for doing nothing in preparation for a new semester. It is also partly for another purpose: for visiting once-close family.

Now on this trip, more than 20 years after I last lived here, driving through the crowded streets and the congested gardens, I realize this is my home turf. My partner and I later walk through my sister’s neighborhood. I’m saying “hello” to all the familiar plants that I rarely see now: Olea, Tibouchinia, Ceanothus, Aeonium, Phormium, Heteromeles, Grevillea, Eucalyptus, Protea and on. We take a whiff of Coleonema, and Will decides that the name “Breath of Heaven” is more appropriate than “Wet Dog Plant.” I agree. We reach high to pull down a branch of Pittosporum undulatum, and sniff January’s citrus-sweet white bells hanging between the wavy-edged lime green leaves.

I have been living in Albuquerque for five years. Before that I lived in Palm Springs, California and before that, Philadelphia. Although I could happily garden in all of these places, my recent trip brought upon me a sudden and intense realization, that these places, while pleasurable in their own right, were not my personal ideal. What was missing from those places? Perhaps it is the year-round growth and bloom of plants, that incessant push of green life. It is what invigorates me, it is what settles me, it is what sustains me.

I am reminded of my first trip to Hawaii, as a child of 10. When I stepped off the plane, I took a deep breath of the flower-scented humid air and thought, “I am finally home.” At first this was simply a subconscious thought. Dreams of this place haunt me still, and I awake with longing. Although it wasn’t California, in Hawaii there is that vigor of plant growth, and the plant energy. In the science fiction book Red Mars, a woman calls the energy of life and growth “Viriditas.” In Chinese medicine, it is the energy of Qi. It abounds in the plant life of these areas.

Then I remember Florida. Lush, dense, heavy, oppressive. It’s like putting your key into your car in the parking lot only to realize that it’s not your car. I realize that it isn’t only plant growth that drives me on. It’s some time before I realize the difference: the terrain. In the places I love, the land and its texture is visible. Light plays on the slopes in a multitude of colors, clouds play among ridge and swale, trees cluster in the mysterious valleys.

There is something in the aroma that rises off the damp earth and the soft calls of birds or the noisy ones of cows. There is something in the warm afternoon sun as it drives off the damp of night. These morning mists, these rolling hills, and the power of green are within me.