casa coniglio

 I know that saying "new neo" is redundant, but I call this plant that because it is my newer Neofinetia falcata. I obtained this one sometime about 1997, so it isn't really new. Although it is younger than the Neo1 that I blogged about on May 20, it's about twice the size of Neo1 with twice the size of the flowers. It isn't a matter of age or cultivation, it's just the variety that it is. New Neo also has pink spurs on the flowers, and the fragrance is more coconut. The plants grow in the same fun-loving manner.

Dittany of Crete (Origanum dictamnus) is one of the most commented upon plants in my yard. I would expect that most people would consider this to be a small, nondescript plant and would overlook it, and since it is tucked into a corner of my yard, I am always surprised that people ask about it. Of course, I don't think it is nondescript. I think it is one of the most charming plants in my garden.



It was a big surprise to me that it survived this past winter, since Sunset Western Garden Book lists it as hardy in zones 8, 9, 12-24 (and this is Sunset zone 10), and most places list Dittany of Crete to be hardy zones 8-10 (whereas this is zone 7).  It is said to be hardy only to above 15F. This winter the courtyard went down to -5F, which is zone 6. People ask me if it can be used to heal wounds, such as in the Harry Potter series, where Hermione uses Essence of Dittany for that purpose. Well, apparently in Crete it is used as a cure-all. It is edible, and can be used for seasoning. Being an oregano, crushed leaves smell like...oregano.



There are two forms in my garden. Both have pink flower bracts that look identical to each other, but the leaves and growth habits are different. One form (all photos above) has nearly round leaves, which are stiff as cardboard. These leaves are felted with a very fine grey fur. The stems are thin and wiry and the hard leaves are relatively easy to knock off the stems.  It is so stiff, that the stems never wilt. It grows low the the ground. The other type has more upright stance, and fleshy stems, which wilt when dry (below). It has soft flexible leaves which have long hairs, and look more green than the other form. Overall the plant has a more lush appearance. You can see which one I like better. Although they self-seed, I've never seen intermediate forms appearing. I wonder if the lusher one is a hybrid between O. dictamnus  and O. rotundifolia (both forms were purchased).



Right now, the plants are just starting to put out the bracts and they are still green. They won't turn pink for another couple of weeks. There is no sign of the purple tubular flowers that emerge from between the bracts. I have posted photos of them before.  But it is at this stage that I get the most comments.

 
I was really happy with my new window, until I heard the thump. It reminds me of the fish prints that I see, where people take a fish, dip it in paint, and make a print. The bird survived, but I bet he was pretty shaken up.  And yeah, I know the window is dirty.

The first blooms on Agastache 'Firebird' are appearing, just as the last of the Eremurus fades. It was a stroke of genius on my part (if I don't say so myself) to interplant them so that the agastache takes over when the eremurus is over.  In the morning, when this photo was taken, the colors look much more vibrant. As the sunlight becomes more intense, the colors fade to soft, muted pastel shades, so much so that the flowers fade into the gray foliage. This is an effect that occurs on most Agastache hybrids with A. rupestris in them.

The mystery campanula is a little past its prime right now, but I had to photograph it, to remember just how floriferous it became. It's much easier to photograph plants that just put out a big burst of flowers all at once. Those that bloom a bit first, or bloom for a long season with flowers fading while some are coming out are harder to photograph in a way that demonstrates their value. Gotta grow them to love them.

sycamore balls

...lighting set up and new tripod. Oh what fun!

This is Eriogonum umbellatum (the sulfur buckwheat) when the flowers are at my favorite stage. The blooms start out bright canary yellow, and after a few weeks, turn to this brilliant combination of yellow and red. In another week or so, this stage will pass, and the flowers will fade to brown. It's a pretty good show for having received no water from me. It's a mystery, however, why this plant hasn't self-seeded. Other eriogonums self seed abundantly (some might even say weedily) in my yard, but I haven't seen a single seedling despite letting the seed heads stay on the plant until they shatter and disperse. I suppose it is a good thing, in terms of tidiness, but it makes me wonder.

I wonder how many people on their hikes fail to notice this frail and subtle native orchid. Epipactis gigantea, the stream orchid is a fairly common orchid in the west, as far as orchids go. I remember seeing them along streams in Southern California deserts, and I've seen them in northern California as well.


I suspect that many do not notice and many do not care, given the amount of trampled plants that I came across on my hike. But to me, coming across this orchid in early June, gives me the sense of childish wonder, as if I had come across a fairy land.



This orchid is not very impressive in color or size. But I find the green petals with rust red lips incredibly beautiful and enchanting. They remind me of the Chinese cymbidium orchids, such as Cymbidium ensifolium.


We have not seen rain here for many months and as we hiked up to where we usually find these orchids, all of the native plants were in a dry, semi-dormant state, waiting for some moisture to fall from the skies. The entire way up, we passed perhaps 2 flowers on the Apache plume (Fallugia paradoxa), the mock orange (Philadelphus microphyllus) barely had any leaves, and all of the waferbush (Ptelea trifoliata) was completely defoliated by a web worm.


I had little hope of seeing these orchids, which grow streamside, in swampy soil, yet on hillsides so that the water is constantly moving past their roots, as I imagine another orchid Phragmipedium longifolium does in its native habitat from Costa Rica to Ecuador.


But despite the extreme dryness of the land on the way there, in the very small area in which the ground orchid resides, the ground was moist and there was even some open water, and they were in full bloom. As my friends played mbira, calling the spirits of the ancestors, an enormous butterfly came by, seemingly an embodied spirit attracted to the sounds, and I felt that I had stepped into the land of fairy.




If you come across the stream orchid Epipactis gigantea, I beg you to take care not to step on the fragile, easily crushed stems, like so many people seem to do on their rush to get from one point to another, or when stepping off the path to go around other hikers. Keep an eye out for this subtle beauty. It's worth it.

I'm not sure why I bought this campanula, but for some reason I bought it, at Agua Fria nursery in Santa Fe. It was probably the heat of the moment. It wasn't in bloom, but it had cute leaves and promised blue flowers. I'm always a sucker for blue flowers. I've lost the name, but the closest that I've found is Campanula sarmatica. It may have been labelled wrong anyway, since I remember doing a web search on the name on the label, and it didn't look like this.

 
The salesman also said that if I had to have a campanula, and if it got any sun, this was the one to get. He also said that it was not for a dry spot, which should have had me running. I should have bought some blue columbines instead, but I had to try something new.


 It bloomed for me last year and although the only campanula I've really liked in the past was Campanula rotundifolia, this one was pretty nice, and vigorous for a plant that is supposed to stay moist and cool. I let it set seed, and this spring hundreds of seedlings appeared. I'll have to dead-head this year. Well, some campanulas are known for their weedy nature, so we'll have to see. These are the first to open, so when the plant is in full bloom I'll have to post again. I only bought two plants, and although the general form of the plant is the same, one plant produces more flowering stems which are unbranched and has nearly smooth flowers (above and below), and the other has much fewer flowering stems which are branched, and the flowers are hairy (top and second).

 
The smoke from the Arizona fire is blanketing Albuquerque, making for some very strange and interesting lighting. My eyes were burning and dripping tears as I took this photo (above).

 Earlier in the day, the sun was just a dot of light. My eyes saw it as fluorescent pink. The camera saw it as yellow-orange in this image (below).


In this image, the camera saw it more like how I saw it. The sun almost looks like an artifact, or like a photoshopped dot of color in the sky. The mountains in the reverse direction looked like they were covered in fog, but no, it was ash and smoke. My plants have a dusting of ash on them.

The Philly Foxtail began blooming three days ago, and at this rate will probably only last a few more days. It is right at its peak today.  I first blogged about it previously here. To recap, I bought a couple of eremurus 'Cleopatra' in 2004 at the spring Philadelphia Flower Show. One never came up, the other produced one leaf the following year, then 3 leaves the next finally blooming in 2008. It has three stems this year. The lesson here: never buy eremurus in the spring (except maybe potted).  Buy it and plant it in the fall. Or maybe the lesson is: don't buy shriveled dehydrated things at a flower show, no matter how excited you are.


It is clearly not 'Cleopatra'  since it blooms much later and the flowers and leaves are a different color. It may be E. stenophyllus or more likely a NOID hybrid. It is actually much more yellow than the photograph suggests, the early morning light making it look more orange. It is a much more vibrant color than the soft orange of Cleo. Although in general I dislike yellow, and this isn't what I intended to buy, I'm glad I have this one, and I want more.


Just to show you how different it is, here it is side by side with 'Cleopatra'. The leaves die to brown, whereas Cleo fades to straw. Cleo has been done for a week, whereas Philly Foxtail began blooming afer Cleo was done.

If you've ever wondered what's the difference between Lavander 'Hidcote' and High Country Garden's 'Hidcote Superior', here you go. After more than 3 years of trialling (and there are more plants than this photo shows), here is my best 'Hidcote' next to my best 'Hidcote Superior', growing side-by-side with the same irrigation. Guess which is which. 'Hidcote' from POTSW is on the left, whereas 'Hidcote Superior' is on the right. 

Here's another view (click to embiggen) with 'Hidcote' on the left and 'Hidcote Superior' on the right (out of focus). Yes, the 'Hidcote Superior' is still alive, the leaves are not dead.