casa coniglio

I almost missed documenting the color of the three-leaf sumac in my front yard. Some plants were a bland muddy yellow, but this one colored nicely. Some years, this one becomes a claret red, other years it has turned burgundy, but this year it has turned an eye-catching orange-red.

The cold destroyed the Osmanthus heterophyllus flowers just as they were beginning to open. Very disappointing. But there are a few spots of floral color in the garden left. Rosemary 'Gorizia' (above) is still pumping out some flowers, but it is the form of the plant that I'm most impressed with. Dittany of Crete (Origanum dictamnus, below) will keep its color for some time even after freeze-dried by winter cold.



The last of the Crocus speciosus is blooming (above), forming a nice contrast to the fall leaves and the 'Angelina' sedum. There are still quite a few flowers on the Salvia chamaedryoides (below) although the winter will freeze the plants back to the ground.

Not a lot of posts lately since it's crunch time for thesis. I'll be presenting my thesis on December 3, at the University of New Mexico, at 9 am. It is open for any who are interested. The working title is "Healing the Land, Healing Ourselves." The long subtitle is "A physician's perspective of land's connection to health."

It got cold last night, down into the 20's, and it's supposed to get down to 19 tonight. Looks like the Osmanthus performance is going to get cut off. The roses are already withered, although the Crocus speciosus, the Salvia coahuilensis and the Dittany of Crete still look good. Once the leaves fall, there will be little happening in the garden until spring. Sigh. Good thing I have orchids.

Today Mr. Subjunctive was commenting on his blog (Plants are the Strangest People) about a scent created by Demeter Fragrances called "Dirt," which actually smells like ...dirt. Unlike others, being a scent-aholic, I'm kind of intrigued by this. These are scents that supposedly smell like what it is called (well, except "earthworm"), not inspired by the name. It's got to be better than the awful body odor of some people in the plant club (I mean that "have you EVER heard of a shower?"kind of smell). I see that the line also carries scents such as "Bonfire", "Cannabis flower", "Earthworm" ("not the worm itself, but where it lives...", "Fresh Hay", "Grass", "Greenhouse", "Fireplace", "Mesquite", "Stable" ("Fresh Hay and muck, sweet animal sweat…………….that’s as real as it gets."), "Wet Garden". I'm not so sure about "Sushi". Perhaps what I find most intriguing are "Poison Ivy" and "Giant Sequoia". I've got to find some. I just hope that the scents are not carcinogenic, like some untested fragrances are.

It's lovely weather here in Albuquerque, on the first day of November, with days in the 70's, nights in the 40's and clear sunny skies. I'm lucky I live here, and yet, I'm sad that winter is coming, with its bitter cold and dormant plants. I will worry with every cold spell, that my marginally hardy plants will not make it. But right now, there are plants blooming, and better yet, there are fragrant plants. This is almost enough to take me out of my fall doldrums.

Osmanthus heterophyllus is just starting to open its diminutive flowers, but already the exotic fragrance of sweet tea is scenting the air around it. With luck, there will not soon be a frost which blackens the flowers and cuts short the show.

Hoya pubera is blooming indoors, and although Tovah Martin, in her book The Essence of Paradise (highly recommended by the way), describes its fragrance as "hot chocolate milk," mine must be a mutant, for it smells of hyacinth and lilies. During the day, the scent fills the room (at night, the orchid Little Stars, in the previous post, fills the room with its clove fragrance). The one-inch wide umbels of flowers secrete a sweet nectar which attracts ants.

Ceanothus coeruleus is still, impressively, blooming, the flowers being a darker blue in the cooler weather. I put my nose in a flower panicle today and was surprised by the dusty sweet chestnut fragrance. Tovah Martin says that it is said to smell of cheese, or gym socks, but that it becomes anisey when the blooms begin to fade. I smell roasted chestnuts all the way from start to finish.

Rose Winchester Cathedral is still blooming, although with less than perfect flowers, and mildewed leaves. Its blooms are less fragrant than with warmer weather, but with blooms in November, I'm not complaining.