casa coniglio

Week two in Adventure in Hydroponics. I expected the plants to settle in for a week or two at least, but in this first week, plants have put out a leaf and are starting to put out a second. How's that for quick? I think they need more sun than my window is giving them, though.

I love that from a single vantage point, I can get so many varied views. I'm sure that this is the same just about wherever you go, you just have to look. I think I'll just have to take a trip to Hawaii, just to prove my point.


For these shots, I used my fixed-focal-length lens (no zoom), and photographed from different directions within 2 feet of a spot which just happened to be at the end of my hike.

 The top photo was to the east, the second photo was at my feet, above was south-southwest of where I was standing.


The photo above was directly south of where I was standing, missing the tower.



This plant (above) is the same one as the second photo.


This one (above) was to the west.


This shot was directly upslope from me, almost directly to the north.

If nature (well, except the third photo) can make things this varied and interesting yet cohesive, can't we do this in our gardens?

I'm really liking my winter garden.

 When I moved, I had to get rid of nearly all my orchids. It was very sad, but I really didn't have much time to think about it. It had to be done. The Phragmepediums were sacrificed.  To be honest, the phrags were nice but not award quality, and lately they had not been performing as they did. It might have been the growing medium had too much calcium build-up, or poor exposure, or whatever. We parted, tears were shed. Enough said.

So now I have the hydroponics unit in which they were growing. I had more choices: throw out, give away, or use. Of course I decided to use. And grow what? I debated whether or not to purchase more Phragmepedium orchids, but at $30 a pop, I hesitated. What else would I want to use the hydroponics unit for? I could use it as an experiment. Perhaps for other kinds of orchids. I could try some cattleya orchids in them, since the unit could is a lot more mobile than the orchidarium and the orchidarium really didn't have enough light to make them happy anyway.

I decided to try strawberries. To be honest, part of the reason for this was because Lowe's had their spring display up, and there they were, screaming to get out of the plastic packages. Plus, there were ten in the package and the unit had ten pots. Perfect.

Actually, I thought about strawberries before the trip to Lowe's. Strawberries have failed miserably for me when planted outside -was it the heat of summer? Indoors would be more temperature controlled. Also, since strawberries are small plants, I could even put them in the empty orchidarium with the new fancy LED lighting system (more about that another time) if I wanted. Strawberries are also said to be okay with part sun (something I seriously doubt). I thought about tomatoes, or peppers, or basil, or lettuce. But then I realized I never really used those things. The unit was also too small, really, for those plants, except for miniatures.


My first thought was for alpine strawberries, and honestly, they are probably a better choice for this location, but there I was at Lowe's and there the plants were, so voila! I'll probably find some alpine strawberry seeds somewhere and try them too, but in pots, on the windowsill if there is any room.

This may turn out to be a complete failure, but what the heck. It will be fun. So I bought new $24 Hydroton (planting medium) and the $4 strawberries and $12 worth of vegan hydroponic fertilizer. These will be the most expensive strawberries ever, if I get any.



My first impressions of hydroponic gardening?

After doing research, the process seems simple enough, although a similar labor as having a fish tank, with talk of biweekly water changes, pH, electrical conductivity (EC), total dissolved solids (TDS), and the large assortment of hardware.

The growing medium (many choices, but I'm using Hydroton, a ceramic pellet) is a lot cleaner to work with than potting soil with no dirt under my nails. It's easier to pot with since it just pours around the roots and doesn't need firming or settling. If you drop a pot, the medium scatters to the four corners of the world, bouncing all the way.

This is, in no way, shape or form,  a natural way of gardening. Vegan fertilizer or not, this is clearly an artificially contrived production system much on the same lines as veal or egg production. When I asked the guy at the hydroponics store (who I swear had an expression that said something like "Freak! I bet you are growing something really stupid! Like something legal!") if they had a completely natural, stand-alone fertilizer for hydroponics, he said no, that in some way a synthetic fertilizer would be necessary (fortunately I had some from the original purchase of the unit). So this is not something that I would consider sustainable.

I kept wondering what the plants would think, if we could determine their thoughts regarding growing in a hydroponics situation. They probably act like kids on Twinkies.

I'll keep you posted.

It's funny for me to realize that I actually like winter. The landscape is peaceful and quiet. It's a season for dreaming about the garden, where I don't get filled with all the chores that need to be done. It's also a time to take care of the indoor plants. I suppose that I could just treat the season as a meditation, but at this time of year I think about all the things that I can grow indoors. Its not really something that I did when I was growing up in California. Although I had indoor plants, there was not much of a separation in garden chores between indoors or outdoors.

When I left this year I gave my little Meyer lemon bush to a friend, and when I returned, he gave it back to me already having a lemon bush and not having the room for it anyway. I'm happy to have it returned home, with three lemons on it, no less. It's just started blooming, and smelling delicious.

Although I have been back in Albuquerque for over a month, and I have moved back into my old house, I'm still settling in. My orchids are telling me that they are unhappy with this situation. It was only this past week that I've been able to (mostly) put the orchidarium back together. Since it was taken apart for the move, I realized that the drain pan had shrunk and that water was getting around into the stainless steel bottom and making an anoxic decomposition zone (i.e. a cesspool). So off to get a shower pan liner, cut it to shape, then wait for a day over 40 degrees when I'm at home during daylight hours so that I can use the toxic glue outdoors (not to be used under 40 degrees). Once that was done, it was cleaning the pieces, assembling, then using silicone caulk to seal the joints, then installing the lights and the fans. Whew. Here it is reassembled, but realizing that I need to replace the fans, which have become too noisy. I also have discovered that someone has finally made LED lights as a grow light and although expensive to purchase use much less electricity. I could even get a solar panel to run the thing. Orchid growing is not a hobby for the sustainably minded, but I find it so enjoyable that I can't resist. Knowing this makes me that much more diligent in recycling, reusing, and putting up with my hybrid car. I had to get rid of most of my orchids during the move, so now I'm wondering what to get. Ah, choices, choices (rubbing hands together with glee). A Neofinetia collection? Some lusciously extravagant Cattleyas? Maybe a Paphiopedilum collection? Except now I'm thinking of putting in some alpine strawberries.

I've passed these rocks for years without noticing anything until my friend Rick pointed out particular ass-pects of my photos. And yes, an alternative title for this posting was "Getting Your Rocks Off." Sorry for the crudeness. It won't happen again. I hope.

Here's what I saw:


Here's what was pointed out to me on my other photos (enlarged and cropped slightly):



I think these are more obvious than the Grand Tetons. You can see both of these in the top photo, uh, hanging to the left and, ahem, bottom--left of the photo. You can blame Rick for these. Or hiking psychosis. I think my first response was "MY EYES! MY EYES!"

By the way, did you see the gorilla in the top photo?

What's happened to Horticulture magazine? It used to be such a resource for cutting edge growing. It used to have profiles of unusual or newly introduced plants (remember when Alstroemeria was new?). It used to have fantastic gardens. It used to have great how-to guides (made me want to grow cyclamen from seed). It's where I first learned about Eremurus. It was my treat for finishing my homework (or starting my homework), say in Organic Chemistry when I was in college. I have every issue cataloged on my shelf since 1995. Now it's a throw-away rag, with poor paper quality, poor writing skills, poor photography, poor page design and worst of all, very little information. They should title it "Pretty Flowers in My Garden." On one hand, I hope that it doesn't go under like so many magazines have recently. On the other hand, I can't bear to spend money on a subscription when all I can think of when it arrives is "why bother." So I've let my subscription lapse after 15 years of collecting.

Fine Gardening is a bit better. It has better paper quality, better profiles, and better design ideas. I can spend a few minutes paging through it. Maybe even 5-10 minutes. Better Homes and Gardens has some pretty pictures, but do you ever notice how all the gardens look alike? There is only one "type" of garden that they profile. Plant profiles are awful, but what do you expect? It's not a GARDENING magazine. As such, I only look at it when there is an issue sitting in the waiting area where I get my hair cut. Same with Martha, but her plant profiles are better, showing at least the range of a group of plants such as bromeliads.

I still enjoy seeing what Sunset magazine is showing every month. Sometimes there is even something that gets me excited.

But I look forward to when Garden Design arrives. It always shows great gardens. The paper quality is very nice, and the layouts are attractive. Even though they redesigned the cover and I liked the old one better, it still looks good (this month's issue has an article on mail-order, with photos that got my heart pumping!). This month's issue is a bit thin, but I hope that improves as the economy improves, and they develop the new design, that it will be a tome. I'm excited that they started a new department Edible, about growing your own food. I really hope this magazine doesn't go under. I have every issue since 1996. My earliest issue is from 1992. And I STILL look at them.

Anyone have suggestions for good magazines?

So this is what my sisters are asking me:

I gave up this (view from my back porch in California)...

for this (view from my back yard in Albuquerque)?



I think you can guess their bias. I think the view in Albuquerque is pretty spectacular.
During my time in California, my dad did say that I always loved rocks.
And by the way, in which one do you see more plants?
Which one do you see more oil refineries?


(and there's more to life than the view from the back yard)

You may be wondering why I'm posting photos of dead plants. Well, I've been so happy with this sweet alyssum on my porch, which survived my 4 month absence with aplomb, then survived through December, blooming its head off. This last cold spell was too much for it, though, and finally did it in. Very sad.


On the other hand, isn't calibrachoa supposed to be a tropical annual? Then why has it survived this long on the North side of the house despite single digit temperatures and snow? Although it isn't looking great, it certainly is far from dead. I'll just have to wait to see if it survives through spring. If so, I'm taking cuttings and planting it everywhere (which means, of course, the two open spots where plants died while I was away).




The ranunculus tubers that I brought back from California are coming up. I'm amazed by this, since I bought them (75% off!) as dried, hard tubers that looked deader than a doornail. Well, 2 of 8 came up, but the tubers do sprout erratically, so I'll just have to wait and see if the rest come up. They probably need more sun than I can provide them indoors, but I just had to see.

It’s a new year, and I’m starting it off by returning to the old. I’m back in Albuquerque after four months of living in California, back to my house which (fortunately) didn’t sell and back to my old job. It’s like I’ve been on a bit of a sabbatical. I’m home now. I feel great.

The Sandia mountains this weekend:
I’ve been asked by everyone why I have returned to Albuquerque.  It’s been something that’s been especially questioned by my gardening friends, who know my dream of growing a Mediterranean style garden, and who know that I grew up in Northern California, and longed to return. It’s true that just about anything can be grown in that area. The Ruth Bancroft garden is there in Walnut Creek, a garden which proudly exhibits succulents from widely varying climates. The San Francisco Arboretum has plants from cloud forests, to South African Aloes, to Australian Banksia, and desert cacti, euphorbias and agave. For my goals, olive trees can be grown alongside apple tress and lemons, artichokes and arugula. To be short, I was surprised to find that the area didn’t suit me. I would love gardening there, but not living there. And frankly, I couldn’t afford a house that had a garden of the size that I desired, so that although just about anything could be grown there, it would be grown by people other than myself. Still, I have no regrets about my (expensive) moves. I settled a lot of issues: mended fences, made paths, planted trees, irrigated and fertilized, and most importantly, weeded (metaphorically speaking), in that short time. My sister said that I would return to Albuquerque "with my tail between my legs." I beg to differ. I don't feel that way at all. I accomplished what I set out to do, even if the outcome was different than what I expected.

View from Mt. Diablo, Danville, California:
    Living there made me notice the differences in gardening. I came to realize that like everything else, the qualities of gardening in any place has pros and cons. These are knives that cut both ways. I don’t think you can strictly say that California gardening=good and Albuquerque gardening=bad. It’s all a matter of perspective, and I choose to take the view that gardening is great just about anywhere.

View from hiking trail by the Tram:


Yes, you can grow just about anything in the Bay Area climate and soils. Great! The plants know this too, and self seed with abandon. I realized this when I noticed that the Canary Island Palm that I so admired, was sprouting just about everywhere, in cracks in the sidewalk, next to telephone poles, underneath shrubs. This massive palm is spiny and difficult to remove. Weeding is a much larger chore.

View of Danville foothills which my niece said looks like sand dunes (smart kid, probably were formed by water):


When there is a huge plant palette, it seems that the design decisions and plant combinations become exponentially worse. There are many more choices, so there are many more bad choices. People still top trees. They plant things that grow huge in small spaces (e.g. that cute ficus tree from the supermarket in a sidewalk space grows into an 80 foot tree with surface roots). They shear things into horrible poodles (I’m remembering a row of sidewalk olive trees that were cut to 3 feet and the side sprouts sheared as a little ruff or hedge a foot or so below the stump). The huge plant palette also means that it can turn into a huge mess. In school, something that one instructor was very insistent upon, was a limited plant palette. It simply makes for a clearer, better design. The Bay Area hasn't listened to this lesson. As a whole, this area is more like a cottage garden. It is not necessarily a bad thing (given that's what my garden essentially is), but it was interesting to me to feel exhausted by the suburban landscape. The native landscape is restful, but the planted landscape of the Bay Area is like being in a cocktail party where everyone is yelling. ALL! THE! TIME! In Albuquerque, the plant palette is limited and the imports that survive here have much of the same adaptations to survival as the native plants, so that they look similar. Thus the landscape has a homogeneous appearance throughout, which I find restful (others would say “boring”).

ABQ mountain mahogany (C. breviflorus?) :
 
    It’s interesting for me to notice that the planted landscape and its immense variety of plants and year-round bloom is completely different from the native landscape. The grasses and oaks that make the most visual impact in the “wild” areas around here don’t have showy flowers. The Mediterranean climate here means summer drought, and the native plants mostly don’t bloom in the summer. Summer colors of olive green and brown are similar to that of Albuquerque, although that comparison is limited since the grasses on California hillsides are Mediterranean imports (annuals brown in the summer) that have crowded out the native grasses (evergreen), not to mention that the brown in Albuquerque is largely earth. The flower color in the Bay Area comes almost entirely from imports (ceanothus is a notable exception). The fall color comes exclusively from exotics: Liquidambar and maples from the east coast, Chinese pistache, Crepe myrtle.

Ruth Bancroft agaves and yucca:


I’m also noticing that although it seems that just about anything will grow in the Bay Area, there is a big gap. That gap is many of the plants that I see in Albuquerque. I thought that was very strange. Although Perovskia grows, it is straggly, and blooms are rather sparse. Desert willow grows here, and grows quite well, but then again Desert willow is at its northern limit in Albuquerque. Small cacti are non-existent here. The only opuntia grown seems to be O. ficus indica. The only agave that I see is the enormous Agave americana, which is miserable in Albuquerque winters. Caryopteris is non-existent, as are ornamental grasses (except the ubiquitous phormium, which I happen to love, or that nasty invasive Cortaderia jubata). I don’t see any Gaillardia. Agastache is completely non-existent. The only yucca that I see here is the subtropical Y. elephantipes. In fact, nearly the entire Plants of the Southwest catalog is not represented here. Tree junipers such as J. scopulorum or ground-cover junipers are entirely absent here except for some terrific Hollywood junipers (Juniperus chinensis ‘Torulosa’), but overgrown shrubby junipers are common.  There are unkempt gardens in any city. Just as in Albuquerque, people in the Bay Area plant things that barely live in the climate, and look like it.

Ruth Bancroft Desert Willow (Chilopis linearis):


As exceptions to the gap, I’m surprised at the frequency with which I see Gaura lindheimeri, even if it is smaller than the ones I see in ABQ. I’m always surprised to see Salvia greggii, which is also scraggly looking, but probably because it is always in a mixed planting with lots of other things shading it. It blooms year-round though. The penstemon here are lush and blooming even now in the middle of winter, although they are the hybrid garden penstemon and not the delicate species. There certainly is no evidence of the Penstemon palmeri, or Penstemon clutei which do so well in Albuquerque.

Ruth Bancroft yucca (faxoniana?) and Pinus monophylla (pinyon pine):

I’m always intrigued by the plants grown in the Bay Area that are also in Albuquerque. My knee jerk reaction is “why?” When there are a gazillion other options? It’s funny to see the pyracantha, evergreen Euonymus japonicus, Cotoneaster lacteus (although the one growing in the canopy of the canary island palm as an epiphyte was remarkable).

 Ruth Bancroft Opuntia (not nearly as tasty looking as those in ABQ):

I find it interesting also, the levels of interest in the landscape here in Albuquerque. From a distance, there is the remarkable contrast between sky and land, the primary colors and the soft clouds against jagged mountains. Closer, there is the contrast between soft mountain mahogany plumes and the sculptural yucca and opuntia. Closer yet, there are the surprising textures, and intricate delicate flowers and details. I suppose those things exist in the California landscape, I just didn't care to appreciate those things there. Also the same plants such as junipers have different summer and winter appearance in Albuquerque, but in California, they look the same, summer and winter.


Elena Gallegos:


Maybe this is a bit of sour grapes, as I remember the luscious looking Strelitzia planted across from the post office where I lived in California, or the trees full of Meyer lemons. Particularly so given the single digit temperatures this weekend, whereas my sister is complaining about the rain. But my point is that despite the gardening benefits of the Northern California climate, other places have their qualities that can’t be matched here.  Those limitations are what makes the character of a place, just as the exuberance of plant species planted in the Bay Area has become its character. The lesson, it seems, is to be appreciate where you are (and although it is a bit boring that it seems to be the same lessons, perhaps it is comforting that there are not a whole lot more...).

I’m also thinking that if anyone is up to the challenge of a difficult gardening climate, that person would be me.