Garden Images: Rest in Peace

I am saddened—and embarrassed to admit—that many of my garden images were lost in a computer mishap not long ago. Here's to saving images elsewhere in the new year.
UPDATE: Many, if not all of the pictures, were saved by a friend. Now I have to go back and arrange them.

Unusual Winter Berries

This plant is one of my current favorites. Though its official name is Melicytus angustifolius, it has no common name, yet! Purchased at Cistus here in the Portland area, it was something my husband chose due to its unusual appearance. (How else can a woman take her husband plant shopping?) I would love for it to have a common name other than: That-Plant-My-Husband-Picked-Out. Since Snowberry is already taken, I may want to call it Winter Pearl Shrub. No matter. I just adore it and cannot wait for it to grow more. (I am picking a few berries for seed. Hope to grow more of these.)

Master Gardener Shock! Scandal!

A few days ago I was told that I could apply for the Master Gardener program in advance of the public because I had expressed interest in doing so with their online course sign-up feature. That was October 31, 2008. At the time, I had to sit back and consider the cost of paying $300 to become a trained voluteer. As someone who is pretty ill, this is a big consideration because we don't have a budget for such expenses. So, just a few days later, I go to sign-up. It has been open to public registration now for a grand total of 2 days! Every county in the Portland area is already on wait-list status. This is crazy! How many other community programs wait-lists its many volunteers? How do these folks have an extra $300 sitting around when the economy is in trouble?
The status of being a Master Gardener in the Portland area is out of control. So often it is a skill touted and I wish it didn't come across as being so off-putting. I guess I am tired of lifestyle options and accessories—such as a Master Gardener Certificates.

Horticultural Therapy

For many reasons, I already feel that I am a horticultural therapist, but I do not have a certificate in the field. As much as I may want one, and I may still seek one out, part of me is somehow upset by the fact that even garden therapy has now been sucked into the professionalism can. This, again, points to how difficult it can be to begin again when your first plan at a profession is hindered by your health.
As someone already set back by years of being unable to work, it is sad to begin again already thinking of missing out on a few more years, since they will be sucked up by some other kind of training. In addition, there is always the fear of falling apart, again, after having had to drop other big life plans. Failure was never an option in the past, but now it is almost always expected, along with a another trip to a doctor, and another...
Expecting failure is a strange way to live, but at least I rarely, if ever, see germination failure. I tend to let plants fail when the weather gets too hot, and I don't water them quite enough. Then it is their failure—not really—but it is a state of failure I can accept. Okay, the only version of failure I can deal with at all. Until they are strong, I care for them more than I often care for myself. This is how I live as I await a return to anything close to normal for me.

Trading Seeds

I am so excited now about being a member of Davesgarden.com. You don't have to be a member to trade, but if you are one, the trading is a bit easier, otherwise, you can only send out a few messages per day to others you'd like to trade seeds with elsewhere. Now is the time, typically, when I begin sorting my seeds, arranging them into their drawers for simple storage. For several years now, the system has worked really well and I still use it.

My little set of drawers was a smart item I purchased from IKEA. I use it to hold the bi-weekly groups of seeds planted one after the other until the last-frost day in Portland down in my basement with lights and heat. I sort the larger groups of seeds into bags. They are labeled for two planting periods: right now (outside) for a natural winter stratification, and after the last frost.
Now that they are arranged in their spots awaiting planting, I am trading online, shopping online, and I am adding to the Excel spreadsheet slowly.

This year I germinated hundreds of seeds, but this next year I intend to be a bit better, and not attempt quite so many. Let's hope that's true. I need to take care of myself and my health, and enjoy my plants, not hate them.

Collecting Seeds, Again

The annual process of seed collection never fails to interest me—even when I am more tired than ever. Each year brings a new lesson in plant develpment, and even after years of this, I just never seem to know enough about any of the plants. There is always something new to learn. And what, you might ask, are the lessons of this year? Here they are, some of them more profound than others:

1) There is a great deal of joy when you buy that one expensive plant, special and rare, and late in the season, it gives you viable seeds. My mother has been excited about a plant she purchased online, and when she saw the seeds pouring out of its dried seedheads, she looked like a little kid jumping for joy.

2) Seeds collected, for some, really are like currency. They can be traded for other seeds, and then more plants can appear. What fun is that during times like these? Super fun. I am able to find new items to grow, and I get to interact with others from my chair. Perfect!

3) Lastly, I learned this year, for the first time, how to collect berry seeds. I could have done so in years past, but it was too scary. I did it this season and am confident enough to do it again in the future!

(Didn't make it to San Francisco yet. I was too ill to go anywhere and know now I could never have made it. Hope to do so in the coming months.)

Too Sore to Think Therapy

As anyone with chronic pain can tell you (or a chronic illness for that matter), nothing is worse than when you are too sore to even participate in the most simple activities. These most basic things are usually what give you your much needed breaks of pleasure amongst the pain, and they are the peaks to an otherwise constant flow of noise in the body electric. I have cruised through today, floating at last in the rescue raft, lifeboat, called, "VACATION."
Though I'd hoped to put the garden to sleep by now, it is a work in progress, and now that I have a window to the world again, I must close it and look away, at least until... I AM IN SAN FRAN on ELECTION DAY!!!! Until then, I must direct all of my energy around: time management, getting the basics done, laundry, light editing work, and my least favorite thing of all—rest.
To keep this in focus, plants will be involved too, and I will see several gardens, and old friends. I am looking forward to City Lights Bookstore, hanging with my husband looking at art, and best of all, haunting North Beach.
Once a west coast center of Italian-American life, it is only a shell now of what it once was. During its last days, almost a decade ago, I met an old Sicilian stranger and he helped to change my life. He had just discovered the body of an old friend who'd passed away "alone in America." He was speaking in dialect to a friend and I was listening. He saw me and could tell I'd understood. He asked me where my family had come from and I said, "Sicilia a long time ago." He asked me if I'd like to talk, if I needed to talk, and I said, "Yes." After an hour or two of coffee I left that day knowing that I would not die "alone in America."
For this reason, the return to North Beach with my husband is always magical to me because I feel like I'd cast a spell that day long ago. At my feet was a bag full of books that eventually led me to the class where I met my husband. He is just what we'd spoken of that day. An old Sicilian stranger and I, imaging the perfect husband for me. He was like any of my great-uncles or their cousins but by then I'd lost almost all but one. He'd been to where my family still lives in Sicily and told me of the town's honey. That conversation still astounds me.
And now I am here at home, dealing with some pretty horrible pain, wanting to think of plants, and growing them, but I can't. My mind is fuzzy and blank. I cannot think with that humming buzzing shaking. My next simple pleasure will be coffee at breakfast, and my thoughts now, of San Fran and a Sicilian-American stranger I once met, and thoughts of the other I married.
Here's to chance encounters and dreams of the marvelous.

Bartering with Plants

If you are like me, basically disabled and unable to work, and you tend to grow lots of plants, try using the barter system on Craigslist. It has been working for me like a charm. (I also check the WANTED column and have found two people looking for very specific items that I've had sitting around.) So far, my most recent posting has been very fruitful. One woman needed some poker plants, sedums, and some palm trees. She helped me weed for two or three hours. That was great since my back and hips have been really hurting me. This week, another woman is going to help me in exchange for an orphaned Japanese maple I have that my mom saved once a long time ago. After that afternoon, I have one more barter-date lined up. I am not sure yet what that woman is looking for, but she is very open to lots of ideas.
With the economy being a sour as it is right now, this is a great way to get the things you need taken care of without it hurting too much. Besides, it is nice to have someone else working with you outside when it is hard enought to be out there in the first place.

My Favorite Garden Memberships

With October 1st only hours away I am proud to say that I have renewed many of my memberships—finally. By far, my membership with the American Horticultural Society is the most rewarding. Their publications are great, annual seed sales splendid, and they have a wonderful education program. (My dream is to be one of their publishing interns. You work for 6 months-I think-at their offices located on a farm which once belonged to George Washington.) In addition, they have one of the largest reciprocal garden programs I have ever seen. You are allowed discounts all over the place.
The Berry Botanic Garden is a local membership I renewed today. With an annual membership you are able to choose 10 free packets of seeds each year during the winter months. I usually buy an additional dozen because the varieties are often hard-to-find plants.
I renewed my Leach Garden membership a few weeks ago. I just cannot say how much I love visiting there. As part of the local Portland Parks System, it is a jewel, and during my trip over there I bought tons of native seeds. I just couldn't resist. Their gift shop is full of all kinds of things I really enjoy. (They offer special plants for sale and have a great compost display area showing you urban composting ideas for your own home.) Photo taken at Leach Botanical Garden, Spring 2008

Trimming the Living Willow Garden

The other day I was finally trimming the living willow arbor out back and I noticed some funny things. First off, this tube in the photo now has tree growth growing around it. I could cut the tube out, but I think I'll leave it there. (It could be worse. It could be a bicycle growing in a tree like on Vashon Island.) Anyway, there is a fear that I have. It could become diseased, but I think that I will just let it go. In addition, a few branches have already start to graft to one another with no human intervention. It is scary to think that the four trees will eventually become "one" with one another, but so it goes... If I lose one at that point, I guess I will lose them all. Anyone else out there have a living willow structure that they care about? Any advice?

Garden Friendly Tattoo Wedding Ring

If you are one who loves to work with your hands, this ring is THE way to go. You'll never lose it, it doesn't slip around your finger, and best of all, your hand doesn't swell up around it. For years I thought of getting a ring tattoo, but recently, I just broke down and did it. I was sick of talking about it. The process was quick and easy, and now my husband knows that I really mean business. Nothing says, Til death Do Us Part, like a tattoo.
The plan had been to tattoo a simple band around the finger, but my friend who did the work talked me into the wave instead. I am really glad now that he did because it reminds me of a tiny vine twisting its way around my finger.
This is the perfect ring for gardening, camping, and cooking, in addition to being a wonderful idea for a tattoo.

Sleeping Bees

If you drive from Portland, through the Columbia River Gorge, towards Idaho or Wyoming, you will see tons of sunflowers guiding you along the highways. Native sunflowers, some consider weeds now, almost pull you over the Rockies towards the prairies of North America. That is one way to look at it, as I choose to do so. I guess that others pragmatically see the seeds of these flowers getting stuck in the wheels of our vehicles, being flicked hither and thither as we drive about the place. Regardless of all of this, at least there is this caveat. It appears as though these blooms offer a soft resting place for the bees that we need so much. And if you are worried about these little guys in the image, we touched one, just to be sure, and it was alive. They were all in a very deep, deep sleep.
It was the kind of sleep I have been searching for during the last few years of my illness. It reminded me of the times when I could enjoy sleeping outside, under the stars, in the arid or mountainous areas of Oregon and Washington. Not afraid of my strength, but in a mood to cherish it. I no longer have that gift. Instead, I instinctively spend every moment looking over my shoulder—as all injured animals do.
That night the train pounded past our cabin at the campground, chugging up the other side of the small canyon and I rolled around outside, on a bench, in a sleeping bag. My husband sleeping soundly inside. At home, I usually use my garden to help me sleep, image by image, task by task, otherwise I focus on the physical pains. I can easily tire and fall asleep if I think about my garden. But that night, I thought only about the bees, tucked away into flower blooms only a few yards away.
My own garden seemed like a far off and unbelievable place—a dream. The bees sleeping in flowers was real at that moment and the image in my mind only intensified that feeling of the possible that only a child can have. And it felt magical. Shooting stars rolled by and I felt more free than I have felt in years, inside my experience, horrible as it may sometimes feel. I easily fell asleep then, like a child lost and not afraid in a wilderness. I wonder though now what bees dream, if they do.

Alcatraz: An Inspiration

These are images from my last trip to Alcatraz a few years ago. At that time I had already been ill for a few years. Seeing the gardens in bloom, being brought back to life, really blew me away. I felt kinship with the place in a way. My hereditary angioedema has made me a kind of prisoner too and gardening really opens up the world to me too. The cell I sit in is right here with my laptop, in a zero gravity chair, looking at my walls, flipping through library books. To escape the pain, suffering, and isolation of chronic illness, gardens and plants are the only things that don't make me dwell in the darkness of my own thoughts for long. (Having seen depression and anxiety already, I know how dwelling can make it worse.)
Later, before we boarded our ferry back to San Fran, I bought a book about the gardens of Alcatraz and their history and development. I read it from cover to cover in one night when I couldn't sleep because my legs were so swollen. It freed me in so many ways and it inspired me to keep going. I wish more people understood how wonderful garden therapy can, or could be, for so many different situation and folks.
Funny too when I look back to my first trip to Alcatraz over 10 years ago. One of the few pictures I took that day was of the old greenhouse. I wonder now if I somehow sensed what was coming. At that time, I was nowhere near gardening. My love was for literature and art history. (If you haven't been to Alcatraz—go! It is amazing!)

Hollyhock House Hollyhock

A few years ago I attended a conference in Los Angeles hosted by the Frank Lloyd Wright Building Conservancy. While there, we visited all of the cement block homes in the LA area, including the Hollyhock House. Although not my favorite structure due to the confusion of the architecture—too many hands in any project can do that—I still enjoyed it. Their gift shop at the time had only one small object I could afford. Seeds are always just the right price in my book. After some delay, I finally planted some at home, and this is a bloom from one of them. I'd show you more, but due to some neglect, they are not exactly upright citizens in my garden and tend to nap a bit too much. Hollyhocks are, for some strange reason, a favorite of mine. A traditional cottage garden plant, they can be difficult, but I'd rather have them any day over fussy hybrid tea roses.

My Two Worlds Collide, Oh My!

Anyone reading this—who actually knows me—will love the excerpt below which I pulled from the introduction of a book I recently read. The book is one in a series of classic garden literature, edited by Michael Pollan.

"For what other pastime has spawned so many fine books? Only fly-fishing comes even close....Which is probably no accident: for gardening, like angling, engages us with the natural world, as actors rather than passive spectators. Both put us smack on the frontier between nature and culture, which is always an interesting place for a writer to stand. And both literary traditions pose practical and philosophical questions about how we might better go about rhyming our desires with nature's ways, questions that only grow more urgent with time." -Michael Pollan (Introduction to the Modern Library Gardening Series)

My jaw dropped when I hit this section. Maybe in some strange way I am more like my father than I already thought I was. His life has been dedicated to the dissemination of fishing information, and sometimes, even what might be called literature too. Growing up, I met many famous fly-fishing writers and never thought a thing of it. Even famous folks my father didn't publish, knew him, and they've always appreciated what he has done for the sport over the years.

I always liked the writers a lot, but fishing was not my thing, especially when it came to spinner and/or bait fishing. (Let's not even go into the bass crowd. They are from a whole different planet.) Instead, for my outdoor fix, I chose hiking and climbing mountains. This worked well for me before the illness kicked in.

Now I am back where I started at age 18. I want to write, am still afraid to do so, and find myself interested in something, no anything, related to the natural world. Originally, I'd wanted to write about the scientific natural world, and now I am narrowing that focus to the natural world around a house, my house. Somehow, in trying to figure out what all of this meant to me, and how I should go about it, I picked up the garden writing series and started reading all of the texts. And what do I find? I found fly-fishing! Life really isn't a linear progression, but a series of circularity reminding us daily that we will always be lost in our fruitless and relentless search for meaning.

The Green Rose

This is a bloom from a Rosa chinensis var. viridiflora. Ours is still young yet, but it is by far one of my favorite garden plants. Registered in 1830, it is an unusual China rose, with no petals, just a lot of sepal. The blooms are often hard to notice at first, but then you can see them all over. What makes it even more exciting is that it smells of black pepper.

The Cats vs. The Birds

Most gardeners are lovers of animals, and for some reason, the two almost always seem to go together. I have heard that in Great Britain, it is most frequently the moggie cat that is much beloved, but here in the US, it seems that we may have just as many dogs digging in the dirt with their owners. Here at our home, we have three black cats, but in addition to Macavity, Maurice and Mona, we also have another black cat neighbor named Meng. There are tons of other cats that come and go too, but our hearts, and garden, belong to the first four, and for the most part, these four seem to tolerate one another.
Like other soil toilers, I also adore birds. This can be a bit difficult though if you also care for cats. Every year we try to make their collars louder, but I still worry about my feathered guests. In general, I have tried to design a garden which encourages bird-watching, and not bird killing. During the last four years, only one bird has been killed–as far as I know... This may have something to do with my pets' penchant for napping on the job. (See Above: Mona on an average day.)

Beautiful Days Ahead

After an 1,800-mile car trip to California and back, there just isn't a lot of energy left in me. We arrived home almost 4 days ago, and yet, I just cannot recover. Sitting in the car is difficult enough for me, but taking two teenaged girls was a whole other issue. (One was a niece, the other is like a niece.) At least I was able to see some amazing landscapes, and my husband was dropped-off in Lake County so that he could help in the annual wine-making process at his dad's. The smoke from the wildfires was giving us all headaches, but the trip back with the girls along the coast was very pleasant. I just worry about the drought now. The grapes looked great, but they did need to be pruned, and I think they took care of that after we left. I wish I could have helped, but again, I just don't have that kind of stamina or the speed either.
Today I have been in a great deal of pain. It is centered around my limbs but I am feeling better bit by bit. For the last few days I have been shaky but that seems to have improved too. I just wish that I could get outside to arrange, plant, and sell the plants that need to be sold right now. My "inventory" is a bit out of control. At least if things died while we were away they can be composted. That always makes me feel better. Maybe tomorrow I will feel stronger.

Anybody buying plants on Craigslist?

Fuchsia boliviana.

The economy must be doing badly this summer. That's obvious, right? Last year I was able to post all kinds of plants on CL but this summer nobody seems to have any extra cash. It is sad that others' seed money is all tied up in fuel costs, but it seems that is the case right now. Tomorrow I intend to post something for sale since it has been at least a month or so since I last had an item up for grabs, but if I don't sell something soon, I guess that I will simply have to pot them all up for next year and hope for the best. (Would love to sell my Bolivian fushias I've grown from seed but none of them has flowered just yet. They were started from seed in 2006, and still haven't bloomed! I refuse to give up on them though. Wish me luck.) UPDATE: JUST SOLD 3 COMMON VALERIAN PLANTS. YA!

Garden Growth

A lot can happen in 4 years.

Garden Memberships and Volunteerism

If I could, I probably would join every public garden in the US, if not the world! Not only do I enjoy their newsletters, plant sales, events and seed sales, but part of me always longs to visit them too. In my area alone I belong to the Portland Classical Chinese Garden, the Portland Japanese Garden, the Berry Botanic Garden and the Leach Botanical Garden. In addition, I belong to the Hardy Plant Society of Oregon and the Portland Rose Society. This just sounds crazy, but I simply cannot live without them! In a way, this all allows me to stay in touch with the world when so much of my time is spent resting on the couch or otherwise. If I could right now, I really would like to earn a Master's in landscape architecture, but my health just won't allow for this until the plasma product is available.

I am a member of the Garden Conservancy as well as the American Horticultural Society. They do so many good things, I just cannot say enough about them and they really inspire me to want more out of my own life and garden. Years ago, while visiting Alcatraz Island, I longed to see what the gardens had once looked like, and now, the Garden Conservancy is helping to make that happen. The American Horticultural Society really tries to tie our nation of gardeners together and is run out of one of George Washington's farms. Although I love this kind of tradition, being a 22-generation American on the one hand, I would love to see a bit more of the West too since that is where my heart and soul are for the time being.

The volunteering part is often the hardest part for me. I would love to be able to help them all more, but I just cannot. Things being what they are right now, I have to try to make a living as much as I can. No matter what happens, though, I will continue to renew my memberships again and again.

Favorite 4th flower

This should be the official flower of the 4th of July. It is Allium "Hair" and I would never leave my home without it. (The last time I moved, I packed my plants first.)

Carduni aka Cardoons

Uncle Joe didn't live long enough to eat the fried little treats, but nevertheless, that summer, we ate the carduni without him. He had been so excited to hear about my wonderful Sicilian-American husband, a non-relation from California, of good Sicilian ancestry of course, that the fact that he was also a trained cook was secondary, but it wasn't so bad either. If only Pietro could go and show that man-called-a-cook at the retirement center how to cook pasta. That was what Joe wanted most of all, just plain decent everyday food. Every time we saw Joe, it was either a plea for help from him asking us to deal with the kitchen staff where he lived, or else he had a few nice things to say about the young female attendants. Keeping him away from both subjects was always a good choice when I visited though, and that was where the cardoons came in handy.
Now we still have the same cardoons, the ones I planted for him 3 years ago, and although I should probably re-seed them again so that the stalks next year will be younger and tastier, I just have a hard time ripping them out. Those plants make me think of Uncle Joe and what he meant to me. He was one of the strange but wonderful bachelors in my family who never married, choosing instead to live with family, pooling their money and resources as they lived together. Each individual appeared to have their place in they system, at least from my perspective, but who really knows now.
As I move on in my own life, I have to let these things go sometimes, and I have to hold on to what I can. I just wish that I could have held on to Uncle Joe longer, or to my Uncle Charlie or Uncle Fritz. I would trade those damn cardoons for a moment with any one of my old Sicilian relations in an instant.

Swelling Disease

I really don't like putting this photo up, even though it isn't the worst swollen foot experience I have ever had, it's just that I have to do this. Most people have no idea what hereditary angioedema even is, let alone what it can do, and this is just the tip of the iceberg that sank my battleship. Basically, any part of my body can swell for no real good reason other than it is being used too much. That's because I am missing the protein in my blood that repairs swelling. My hands and feet are the worst, followed by my intestines. I also react as though I have allergies and for some unknown reason I am the only person I have ever met who can say that decongestants lower my blood pressure. In addition to those, I take twice the recommended daily allowance of antihistamines and then a whole lot of other things. Maybe this can explain some of the disability problems and why it's strange I like to garden when it can actually hurt me a great deal.

Cemetery Roses

I found this old cemetery rose at a pioneer cemetery near Astoria, Oregon. My husband and I love to seek out these old plants when we go on our trips because it really is such a fun activity when you are traveling with so little money. When I was a child, doing this kind of thing was normal, but now, young folks don't always do these kinds of things, often calling them old fashioned or outdated. All I know is that it is an activity that I used to like to take part in, and I still do. I hope that my nieces, or even my future nephew, will do the same in the future.
These small rose blooms smelled amazing and although the cuttings I took did not take, luckily I will be able to return there soon for some more.
I hope to add a few others to my collection too as time goes by. Let me know if you have any great ones.

My Glo-Go Tree, the Orange Ball Tree, or the color my neighbor hates

Very few people outside of my family will understand when I call this thing a Glo-Go tree. Technically, it is actually a type of butterfly bush but it is very unlike the ones we are most familiar with here in the US. This one is South American. It is a: Buddleia globosa, or Orange Ball Tree. I bought it here in the Portland area at a nursery called Cistus and I just cannot say enough about the folks there. They are great and so are their plants.

Columbine: Chocolate Soldier

This is the Chocolate Soldier Columbine. I don't think I have to say anything more than it is a Top 10 favorite of mine. The blooms aren't really all that showy, but they are simply so unusual one just cannot get enough of them.
Easy to grow from seed, they can bloom the first year if tended to from the start. They are small-ish, only about 15-20" tall and wide, and appear to be pretty tough. No mildew in sight!

Sore Throat Update

I cannot believe that I haven't posted anything in several months. My sore throat led to a skin rash, then to a skin biopsy, and eventually I had a late case of the flu. What a pain this has all been! The skin rash was an allergic version of eczema, not a huge surprise since my dad has a horrible time with his, but mine was very different looking and it was treated. (Thank God!) As for the other issues, I am currently going through a large number of tests to discover the cause of the horrible pain and swelling in my feet and hands. It isn't connected to my hereditary angioedema or my hereditary primary hypertension. I dread to say this, but if diagnosed, the things on the list are just like many other problems. There is no cure and really no great treatment. As for me I have been depressed, full of anxiety, and unable to garden much. I will keep my chin up though. The purple lilac across the street is in bloom and the color is amazing.

New Year, Sore Throat

I wish that I could have been given a better New Year's present. My throat is killing me and my lungs are filling up with phlegm. When you have an auto-immune disease, these little viruses can cause a lot of havoc. Everyone I know has already had this setback, but now it is my turn. As long as I can rest, I can get over it.
The seedlings in the basement continue to sprout. At least, again, I feel as though I am busy and growing because of them despite my immobility. My planting schedule is very much on track. Today I will work on putting more of my 12-weeks (before the first frost) batch into the fridge for cold stratification. Then I can prepare for my next batch scheduled for January 15th sowing.
We have another wind storm blowing here in the Willamette Valley. As I sit writing this I can see the limbs of one of my Doug firs being hurled hither and thither. I love those trees so much, but their needles can be messy. At least the street cleaner is here and their truck can clean up some of the debris.