DryStoneGarden

calindrinia

These calandrinias sure are happy. This spot used to have bamboo in the ground, so before planting, we dug out the soil to a depth of two feet. Whenever we turnover or dig soil, we also add compost (turning soil increases the oxygen in the soil which in turn increases the population of bacterial microbes; you need to provide additional food to sustain the boom of bacterial life or else the population will go bust and leave you with worse soil than before you started), so these calandrinias are growing in two feet of loose, ammended soil, slightly raised to provide good drainage, full coastal sun, pretty much their ideal conditions. They’ve pretty much exploded, tripling in size in three months and blooming by their second or third week in the ground. 

We usually plant them in less optimal conditions where they grow well but much more cautiously. The photo shows their leggy bloom habit. They seem to look best if you can raise them a foot or two so the blooms are stretching up to just below eye level. They will bloom most or all of the winter in Berkeley and Richmond.

The aloe in the lower corner was a dark red when we planted it, but the good soil and (I’m guessing) generous hand-watering by the homeowner has turned it blue-green. Below are a couple of shots of Calandrinia in my neighbor’s garden. (more…)

This is the front yard of a house where I used to live. One of my roommates at the time did this little native planting; I’m still friends with the owner and occasionally help out with the maintenance, which this time of year means dealing with the Wild Grape. “Wild” doesn’t really begin to describe how this plant behaves; feral seems a little more accurate, maybe a little more pejorative. It’s not really the right plant for a space this size that rarely gets any maintenance, but my friend seems to enjoy watching it go crazy, and the plants do manage to cope. The Manzanitas sit tight, the Heucheras go dormant, the Gauras get scale, and the Ceanothus “Dark Star” is actually trying to bloom. The saddest part is that I felt obliged to cut it back before it could do its show of fall color.

Tree #8 by Myoung Ho Lee

If you ever wondered about the term ‘specimen tree,’ this is it. The photo is done as art, but it might as well be for a class on garden design. This is the affect you want when you plant a Japanese Maple.

The photo is from an art exhibition called “TREE,” by Korean artist Myoung Ho Lee. There is a slideshow at Lens Culture and an interview at The Morning News. He uses a cherry picker, out of sight behind everything, to hang a giant canvas, and he has some big ideas when he does it — “seeing trees in a refreshing way or restoring the value of trees is to awaken all beings on earth in my work.” It’s probably best not to quibble with anyone who aims to awaken all beings on earth and who creates images this cool in the process.

Blessed Calendula

This calendula was grown from seed that was blessed by Amma, the hugging saint. The label said “Blessed Calendula,” so for a year I thought that was the common name rather than just “calendula.” And it has indeed grown as if blessed, though Anita says calendulas always do that, that we can’t really attribute their success to the blessing. Ah, well. I guess we’d have to get her to bless some Woolly Blue Curls or Bush Poppies or other difficult plant to really test it. In any case, the calendulas have done well. Two of our plants intend to overwinter themselves and go for a second year, and many of the others live on through volunteers that have come up throughout the garden. Does the blessing continue through subsequent generations? One would hope so.

If you don’t know who Amma is, she’s a saint from India who blesses people by hugging them. To date, she’s physically embraced 26 million people. 26,000,000. That’s getting close to the entire population of California. And I am counted in that number; I got hugged last spring and liked it enough to get hugged again this week. For some people she is a religious or spiritual leader, but, personally, I go as a tourist more than anything else, intrigued by the ingenuousness of a master hugger.

Fortunately, her events do a good job of accommodating casual visitors and devoted visitors at the same time. You have to wait several hours for your turn, but while you wait, you’re free to do pretty much whatever you want — meditate, chant, knit, read, talk on a cell phone, pretend you’re not waiting three hours for a hug, etc… — until it is your turn to queue up. Then the volunteers funnel you into the queue, and it’s then, as you move up, seat to seat and then onto your knees before her, that you get drawn into the moment. When she finally embraces you, it’s with a big strong hug, very physical, with your face pressed firmly into her shoulder, and she mumbles or chants or, in my case, makes a low trilling sound — she seems to vary it from person to person — and when you get that hug, from the hugging saint, the official guinness world record holder of hugging, you do feel as if you’ve never had a hug quite like it. I’m not usually a big one for hugs, but it’s a unique experience getting hugged by a saint, and I recommend it.