Catching Up

The computer is back! Something went wrong with our monitor and it needed a new part. I was surprised how much I missed having a desktop around - guess I've become dependent, despite the computer in my pocket. I also missed making our weekly video. I can't do one this weekend either, but next week hopefully I'll be back to routine.

Meanwhile: Rain. And more rain. As you can see in the above photo, our back patio is mostly under water, the row covers are sodden and bedraggled (at least the beds can be open to the weather, as it's been in the 50's at night and low 60's during the day), and though everything is green, there are signs that it's just been too much water for the earth to handle. The creeks around us are flooded, trees are down everywhere, our street is literally a river, and I cannot believe the amount of water in the foothills. Our house is mostly dry but I've discovered a couple new roof leaks in the garage and the corners are full of water. We haven't had this kind of rain in twenty years, and I'm guessing we won't again for another twenty. Oh, how I wish I had put in several five-thousand gallon tanks this summer. Opportunity missed.

We've got empty fire rings waiting to be filled with soil, which I won't order until I'm sure the rain is mostly over, or at least until we have a dry weekend where I can wheelbarrow it all from the driveway to the beds. I'm also noticing that there are patches in the wood chips that need replenishing (they've been washed away or decomposed), so I suppose we'll have to get a pile of those delivered as well. Our spring will be very busy.

I did manage to transplant some broccoli, cabbage, and cauliflower from the greenhouse into the beds, but it looks a bit peaked in this latest rain. The kale, chard, braising greens, spinach, radishes, turnips, garlic, and onions are all doing just fine, and the new sowing of peas is just starting to emerge. I'm glad I got annual native wildflower seed down in the pollinator beds before this latest deluge, I'm sure they'll pop up quite happily in this weather. At some point the sun WILL come out, and I'll be sure to make my way into the hills and open spaces to see the flower show that will surely be incredible this year.

School is kind of kicking my butt. Well not school per se, I am enjoying my classes a lot and learning so much every day, but the homework has been more time-consuming than I expected. I am often stuck working at the kitchen table for hours, on the days when I am home. I'm trying to cram a whole new language into my brain. I wake up at night after nightmares about nomenclature or vascular bundles. At school I take pictures of every example, every sample we look at in lab. When I take a break from homework to walk in the rain, I find myself ID-ing every weed in every sidewalk crack. My 49-year-old brain is racing to absorb everything and regurgitate it on command, and it hasn't had to do that in quite a while. I suppose it's good for me, kind of like how doing crossword puzzles or sudoku is supposed to be good for aging brains. The only difference is that a professor isn't waiting to hear how you did on your crossword puzzle.

Sometime last Fall, I signed up for a native plant propagation class that took place this past Saturday in a wonderful garden near me. I was reluctant to attend as my head was already stuffed full with regular school stuff, but I forced myself out into the wet day and I'm so glad I did. The class took place at Judy Adler's house and some nearby gardens that she has established, on public school property (with the school's permission). Judy has it all dialed in - low water-use landscapes, native plants that are also food sources for local wildlife, environmental education for children in the area, and a vast knowledge of plants that grow well in our area and climate. I learned so much, and came home with many cuttings to propagate in my own garden, but what I enjoyed the most was being with Judy, trying to soak up her enthusiasm for this world and all nature in it. She is a vibrant, active, fascinating teacher and I would highly recommend taking a class with her. 

As for seed starting, I've only got one tray inside under the lights; I'm dying to start tomatoes and peppers, but it's just too early, and who knows how much more water will fall from the sky. So I am holding myself back. I've got celery starting, and Iceland Poppies, and Chocolate Lace Flower. In the greenhouse are more brassicas, growing larger before being transplanted, and the sweet peas which are getting a very slow start. At least we are getting some fresh greens from the garden a couple of times a week, as well as spring onions anytime we want them. Everything is yearning for sunshine. I might put myself under the grow lights. Maybe that will help me learn my schoolwork faster. 

90% Luck

As you know, I'm taking college classes in landscape horticulture. One of my courses is in identifying and designing with California native plants. I love native plants; I would say that my current gardening obsession actually started with them many years ago. I've been to more native garden tours than I can count, read more books on the subject than I can list here, and have done extensive research and taken workshops on these plants. And yet: In just two weeks at Merritt, I've learned more than the last 10 years figuring it out on my own. One thing has become crystal clear to me, and that is that any success I've had with natives has been 90% luck. Because I've done a lot of things wrong.

Arctostaphylos densiflora 'Howard McMinn' in my garden

Yesterday we studied manzanitas (Family: Ericaceae; Genus: Arctostaphylos). I have several of these plants in my garden, for several reasons: They have beautifully colored branches, often deep red; they have wonderful blossoms that native bees and hummingbirds really like; they produce berries, some edible by humans, all edible by birds; and they require very little water. To that end I have sited them in my garden in places that receive zero irrigation. And that is correct, I have done at least that right. But manzanitas (most often, not always) naturally occur in very lean soil, on slopes and ridges, or bluffs and coastal scrub, far away from nutritive clay. I have clay soil in my garden, which has been amended with compost and lots of other organic matter. This means my soil is very rich. Clay soil is not only dense physically (lacking oxygen when wet), it is also highly charged and nutritious; just what manzanitas do NOT like. If I had planted them correctly, I would have added a lot of sand to the soil, piled up a little berm so that water runs off, maybe topped it off with rocks or gravel, not wood mulch. Arctostaphylos gets its nutrition not from soil, but from mycorrhizae, fungus that grows in association with its roots and transfers food that it mines from the surrounding minerals. I don't remember planting my manzanitas (it was a long time ago!) but I do know my usual methods, and I assume that I planted them in extra compost to 'give them a good start.' I didn't know any better.

Despite my wrong method of planting these manzanitas, they have thrived and bloomed every year, and are large and happy. I can't explain this. All I can say is that once I planted them, I left them completely alone. No water, no fussing; an occasional very slight haircut just to keep them manageable, but nothing extreme.  And that seems to be what Arctostaphylos likes with regards to maintenance - abandonment, basically. My teacher says that's actually the goal with native plantings. Total abandonment. If you can't do that, you've put the wrong plant in the wrong place. 

Ceanothus arboreus 'Cliff Schmidt' in class yesterday

We also studied ceanothus (Family: Rhamnaceae; Genus: Ceanothus), which I have in my garden as well, mostly for the bees but also because they are beautiful. Most of these genera also prefer lean soils; coastal sage scrub or chaparral communities. Again, they survive in my garden, likely for the same reason the manzanitas do - I plant them in dry areas and leave them alone. However I have lost a few ceanothus, and I think it's because those were in areas that received irrigation. I also pruned one of them very heavily to keep it out of a path, and eventually it bit the dust. Though it's true ceanothus are naturally shorter-lived than manzanita, because they are nitrogen-fixers; like legumes, they pull nitrogen out of the air and put it into nodules at their roots. All nitrogen-fixers live brief lives, I suppose because they are working so hard while they are alive. Many ceanothus prefer coastal conditions, but quite a few like it hotter and drier, and I guess I lucked out by choosing those varieties. 

I'm sharing all this because I know many of my readers are also lovers of California native plants, and like to make space for them in home gardens (which is a noble pursuit). Here's what I recommend you do (and what I'll be doing as I plant in future): Take a lot of time to research the plants before buying them. Most nurseries give cursory information about planting at best. For native plants, there are a few good resources that will help you determine the best placement for a plant (and perhaps whether even to buy it at all). These resources are: Las Pilitas Nursery, San Marcos Growers, California Flora Nursery, Native Sons Nursery, the CalFlora website, and the Jepson Herbarium website from UC Berkeley. These websites will help you understand what the ideal planting conditions are BEFORE you plant.

A word about plant communities: I've known about them for many years, but I can't say I have planted according to them, to my garden's detriment. Let's take my yard as an example. It is flat, it is comprised of clay soil, it gets extreme temperatures (over 100 many days of the summer, below freezing many days in winter), it is extremely dry for most of the year (if not irrigated), and is surrounded by streets and concrete. It has had an inordinate amount of organic matter mixed in as well as been covered by wood chips. Some of it is shaded by very large, mature trees, and there is a lot of leaf litter. Some of it gets no shade at all. There are microclimates within its boundaries; some areas stay wetter and cooler longer, some are ovens with hot, trapped air (by the way, the ceanothus and manzanitas are located in the oven sections, that probably helps them). I have to be brutally honest about the basic conditions of my yard in order to have planting success. There is no sense in having a coastal or island plant in my garden. It will not survive. 

Frangula californica 'Leatherleaf' coffeeberry in my garden, probably in the wrong spot

One of my goals for this year is to revisit the areas that are regularly irrigated and decide if there are some plants in those areas that would prefer to be moved. 

Lastly, I want to let you know that there will be no Weekly Walkthrough video for the next two weeks. This weekend, our computer will be in the shop, as it needs a new part. Next weekend, Kate and I will be in Sacramento at a theater competition. 

Here's hoping for more planting successes in the garden this coming year, for all of us!

February To-Do List (for Zone 9)

Here is your handy-dandy printable for February. We're still having some pretty cold temps at night, though it is supposed to warm up nicely as the week progresses - into the 40's at night rather than the 30's. I think it's safe to start some of these things in your outdoor garden beds, especially if they are under cover. If not, you might want to wait a week and see how things shape up. Remember, our last average frost date is February 15. We may still get some cold nights, as late as mid-March. Maybe save back some seed to plant then, just in case.

Hedging your bets is always a good idea, at least in the garden.

The tule fog has settled here today, a rare occurrence this far from the interior Bay. It makes everything look very mysterious. I'm hoping to get one last hike in before the rain begins again tomorrow. The reason I don't go hiking in the hills when it's wet is because we have very heavy clay soils here, and when it rains, it becomes a particularly sodden muck that can suck the shoes right off your feet. I do have muck boots, but they don't have enough support for hiking. Someday maybe I'll get a pair of real hiking boots. But I'm still not sure I'd enjoy slogging through mud. Unlike the little boy we saw on Sunday, in a mud puddle on the trail. He was covered head to toe and having the time of his life. 

Weekly Walkthrough: Time to get some stuff planted

This week's walkthrough is up. The weather has been so beautiful this past week that I just couldn't wait any longer to get some seeds in the ground. 

Why I Don't Have Many Weeds

It was another interesting day at school yesterday, full of information; there is a lot of presumed competence going on in these classes (which I appreciate), but that means my learning curve will be steep. Normally I like that. My brain is just a little tired at the moment.

Swiss Chard in the South Garden

The nice thing is that I'm also getting answers for why some things in my garden are working right - and I didn't even know I was doing them. Or if I did, it was for some other reason, and it turns out that it works well for other things, too.

Blueberry

For instance, I learned a tidbit in my "Weeds in the Urban Landscape" class that helped me understand why I have very few weeds. I always thought it was my vigilance paying off - and in fact that is probably part of it - but it has a lot more to do with the way I am managing my soil these days.

Cabbage, acting more as a trap crop at the moment

Did you know that weeds like a high ph? They prefer things around 8 on that scale - quite alkaline. Did you know that gardens high in organic matter tend to be closer to 6 or 6.5 ph, more acidic than weeds like? I didn't know this. I was adding tons of organic matter to the soil to improve water retention, amount of oxygen, and food for the microbes. I had no idea that I was also making an inhospitable place for weeds.

Yarrow

We did apply wood chips with the consciousness that they would smother weeds. But a thick mulch doesn't just smother them - it also prevents seeds, blown in by wind or pooped out by birds, to reach the soil. It also prevents light from getting to seeds that do touch the soil, which means they never germinate. And of course wood chips, or any organic mulch, is also adding a layer of organic matter on top of the soil, thus decreasing ph.

Chinese Forget-me-Nots

Here's something I did know: A no-till system also discourages weeds. Our vegetable beds have not been tilled in many years, and we get very few weeds in them. When you turn over soil, you expose many buried seeds to light and air, therefore causing them to germinate. It's far better to disturb the soil as little as you possibly can.

California native annual wildflower seeds, before getting mixed into a bin of soil to add to our pollinator gardens

I do still get a stray weed here and there, but considering the state of our yard before our sheet mulching project (bindweed so widespread I thought we'd never get rid of it, ditto Bermuda grass), the difference is pretty incredible. And another benefit of added organic matter is that it's easy to pull the weeds I do find.

Diablo Foothills, Castle Rock park, this past Tuesday's hike

For those of you that live in California: The instructor of my native plants class is also an avid hiker. He says he believes this year will be a banner year for wildflower shows in the hills, due to the vast amounts of moisture we've been getting. He beseeched all of us to get out there this spring. Don't just be satisfied with seeing other people's pictures! he said. You must get out there and see the beauty for yourself. This instructor, Stew Winchester, also leads backpacking excursions specifically to see wildflowers. If this interests you, you can visit his website for more information. I believe the summer dates are not up yet; check back later or send him an email. He also teaches in many places besides Merritt.

I look forward to learning ever more about what I've been doing wrong (and right!) in my own garden, and I hope to share those things with you as I discover them.