The Hopeful, Ruthless Gardener

When I got in from this morning's sunrise sojourn, I headed down to the greenhouse. Dichorisandra pendula (a tropical spiderwort) is blooming nicely.  We like it when plants bloom nicely. And when they don't, we take measures.

Two days ago, I finally bit the bullet and cut back my enormous hibiscus, "The Path."  She had grown up and up until she was nearly as tall as I am.  I had her wired together by her lanky arms (you can see the fine green wires running from branch to branch). But there was no getting around it--there was a lot of bare branch between the lower shoots and the blooming ends. Awkward. That's a lot of biomass for a very small greenhouse. Time to intervene.

I had to steel myself for the cut. It was hard to do, but I knew that cutting the plant in January would give it the best chance of making fresh new growth that would burst into bloom by next fall. By next fall, I'd need some nice new growth full of buds. Besides, the plant was getting more and more aphids on the new growth, and having less biomass would make those easier to control. Arrgh. Chop. It's time. Bye.

The aftermath: a thoroughly tamed plant, with a few consolation buds. You're off center stage for awhile, Miss Path. But  I know you well: you'll come roaring back. 

The Path's cut tops are now blooming away in a vase in the master bathroom.  That's a beautiful flower, but nothing like what she can do when she's happy. When a plant capable of making 8" saucers starts throwing 3" mini-blooms, it's time to intervene. 

And besides. The Zick has made cuttings, producing a couple of meet understudies. So there's a backup plan well underway. There's always a backup plan. 

This cutting took almost a year to send out a root, and another year to get to this point. I didn't lose hope.  It's a slow process. But once she gets going, she really, really goes. This little gal is turned up to 11.

Byron Martin of Logee's Greenhouse, where The Path originated (as a gift from my dear friend Donna), says of this plant, "The Path actually blooms more than it grows."

I know how that feels.

Center stage now is taken by Creole Lady, who is about to get a bigger pot. She's been throwing out luscious peach hued blooms all winter. You can see The Path hunkered down on the right. There's plenty of her left. And soon to be more.

You have to love a hibiscus who does this all winter long. Here's The Path, with Creole Lady budding and blooming in front.

Elsewhere in the greenhouse: Rex begonia "Cancun."

and "Jurassic Watermelon."

Happy Thought Red is going to take over the entire northwest corner of the greenhouse. Almost a yard across now! Time to make some cuttings!

Lemme out! Spring's almost here!

On patience and gardening: Last winter, my sweet friend Cindy sent me an amaryllis bulb. Variety: Bogota. It would have been white with red stripes. Well, this bulb sent up a tiny bud that bent over and withered before it bloomed. Whaa? From White Flower Farm??

I emailed Cindy to tell her the bulb had misfired. She got her money back from WFF. I continued to nurse the bulb. Eventually, Bogota threw out a bunch of long strappy green leaves. I kept watering it. I put it outside for the summer. I brought it inside the greenhouse this past fall. I kept it on the cool floor of the greenhouse.

Finally in October, I stopped watering Bogota, and I cut the withering leaves off in early December. I moved it up from the floor to a warmer shelf. I repotted it in a mix of potting soil and aged cow manure. Was surprised to find a still-viable root system despite the total dryout. It didn't take long for the bulb to respond. A little green nose poked out!

That nose is now almost a foot tall--I can almost see it grow before my eyes.  And the other day I found another bud-nose poking out from the second leaf scar!

Bogota will bloom, twice over, next month!

Faith in a bulb, faith in a stem. Plants, the most amazing renewable resource I know.

Setting Up Xanadu

When my sister Micky and I were young, we loved to play Trolls. We had these little folding vinyl lunchbox-like houses for them with a few bits of doll furniture we'd scrounged, augmented with rocks. We'd spend a long time setting everything up just so. And then it was over. Once it was set up, there was nothing to "play." Same deal in the sand patch in the backyard. We'd get our Matchbox cars arranged, make little garages and houses and driveways, and once everything was just like we wanted it, we were done.

I now embrace the reality, that the setting up and arranging and rearranging is actually the whole thing, and when I need a break from whatever I'm doing, I go down to play Greenhouse. Repotting and rearranging and preening my plants is the whole game. Just messing about with plants and soil, pots and pedestals. Do I ever sit there and just drink it in? Sure, in the dead of winter, maybe for a few minutes with a cup of hot tea or a rare pale ale. The rest of the time I'm working away, arranging it all just so. That work is my play. 

Bacon keeps me company. In the dead of winter, though, he demands to be on my lap, because the concrete's too cold. If anyone can make me sit down, it's Baker. Hey, he makes me run, too!

I don't know why my pitcher plants sulk in the pond all summer, with a few green strappy leaves, then send up a mess of spectacular pitchers in October, but that's what they do. Reasoning that they need to digest all the insects they've caught, I bring them into the greenhouse for the winter.

It's pretty chilling to look down in the pitchers. Stuffed FULL of bees, wasps, earwigs, and moths. None of 'em getting out. The pitcher plant slowly digests them alive, until they're just husks. When the pitcher leaf finally croaks, I slit it down the side and have lots of fun trying to identify all the things it's caught. 

Considering that the pitchers are about 2' high, that's a lot of pollinators! I check them daily and use a stick to help bumblebees and honeybees and the odd moth or hapless wasp out. Can't stand to see them suffer--or hear them buzzing in there. Earwigs, you can have!

You can see the pitcher plants on the floor, where they'll stay cool. I keep them wet, because they were submerged in the pond all summer. I've decided this plant is indestructible; doesn't seem to care if it spends the winter encased in ice or in the greenhouse; they still come back in spring and bloom!

Speaking of pollinators, I have a huge Polistes wasp nest in the greenhouse, built over the summer. 

Eek, you say? Yeah, me too. But the thing is, they've never once made a move to attack me, even through all the schlepping of plants in and out as autumn comes on. Every time I go in, I look up to see how many are still hanging in there. It's November! But it's warm in here. I guess I'm curious what they'll do.  They're not hurting anything living in here. There are no capped cells with pupae; they're done breeding. What happens now? In nature, they'd die, I guess. Or overwinter somewhere. Maybe here. 

Update: I accidentally brushed the nest with my hand while hanging twinkly lights tonight. The wasps looked calmly at me. "We know you didn't mean to."

I always remember what my parents told me when I was little and would freak out about a wasp. "Don't bother him and he won't bother you." 

Schlumbergia is not the prettiest Latin name for a plant. I have to say it fits Christmas cacti pretty well when they're not in bloom. But when they're in bloom, they belong to genus Euphoria!!!!!

I picked this little number up at a Kroger grocery store. I still haven't seen one I like better. 

When it's done blooming I'm going to divide it into several pieces. It's rootbound and getting sort of sad (blossoms notwithstanding). People say Christmas cacti thrive on neglect. Hmm. Nothing in my greenhouse gets neglected. I want to see it firm and dark green and happy again. Needs more root room.

Last May I ordered another hibiscus from Logee's Greenhouse. She arrived healthy and happy, about a foot tall. Now she's about 2 1/2' tall and loaded with buds. This is "Creole Lady," in bud. That bud stayed exposed but tightly furled for about a week. I almost burst with anticipation. Had I known what was coming, I WOULD have burst!

You're going to have to wait to see her. Because I had to wait. I had to wait since May!! By the way, that fabulous neon-orange flower in the background is not a fuchsia. It's a dwarf pomegranate! And it's fruiting like mad!

Waiting for Creole Lady, I kept myself happy with the gentle blue beauty of lobelia, that seeded itself into my poet's jasmine pot. Love it when that happens.

I took a cutting of this geranium from a planter outside a natural foods restaurant in Ithaca last October. It was the end of the growing season; she wouldn't miss it.

Now she graces my greenhouse. I think this is "Petals."

This glorious creature is "Happy Thought Red." It has become one of my favorite gerania, despite its easily shattered flowers. "Shattering" is a grower's term for a geranium that easily drops its petals. I used to dislike easily shattered geraniums. 

Older and wiser now, I look at the slow cascade of petals as hearts breaking and falling.

 Let it rain.

This big upright/semi-trailing fuchsia (Trandshen Bonnstadt) is my new fave. I have propagated it out the wazoo. They're everywhere! They're everywhere! Even have one in the master bath, where it's doing fabulously. Although I think, being a German cultivar, its name should be spelled Trandchen Bonnstadt.

You do not see fuchsias like Trandchen Bonnstadt in nurseries. I got it at The Glasshouse Works. This one (below) is a typical big-nursery fuchsia. Very nice, but without the impact of T.B, simply because it never gets much more than 8" tall. I don't know why, but fuchsias like these seem to lack vigor, lose hope easily. Give me big strapping ones like T.B. and Gartenmeister Bonstedt any day.

Yep, there's a party goin' on in Xanadu!

Woot woot!

The Path keeps the salsa music going night and day. Really, she can be a bit much as a roomie.

Some days, she's got her nose pressed up against the back window, hollering and waving, trying to get people to come inside and dance. 

It's hard to upstage a Rex begonia like "Cancun," but she does, oh she does.

Hold on, Miss The Path, because Little Sister's puttin' her makeup on.

I peeled back that unfurling tangerine petal on Creole Lady and saw... deep lavender?? 

 And an aphid, which I squished. 

Stay tuned! 

The Creole Reveal on Thursday!