Friday, June 4, 2021

A mess, a move (forever home) and surprises

Before we dive into today's blog post I should share that I put it together prior to the events I wrote about on Wednesday. Back when I was still actively gardening. I also have an update on my ankle. It's broken. A fracture of the fibula—I guess that's the biggest surprise of all. Current thinking is that it will require surgery but I'll know more after my appointment on Tuesday afternoon, in the mean time, I'm in a boot and on crutches. No weight on the ankle! In other words, I am not gardening like this...

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I'd been working on a new planting project. I limbed up the loquat so it could finally look more like the tree it is, which meant I had shady space to plant underneath... fun! So I finished planting, and like a good blogger I wanted to take photos. It was late though, I went in to fix dinner and thought... tomorrow. Then this happened. A windstorm swept in and crap from the fir trees behind us rained down...

Obviously this isn't the newly planted area, but it looks similar to this. Forget the nice compost mulch I'd just spread, the dark brown is now heavily spotted with orange.

Who would have thought two tall fir trees—this is #1...

...here's #2, leaning in—could drop so much crap in just a 24 hour period. 

But they do...

And they did...

It was everywhere! No, I am not looking for your ideas on clean up. I'm just sharing the mess.

The container plant disaster mess.

Which is especially irritating when it involves agaves.

Water is fun too—not.

Buckets and buckets later (actually several 11-gallon tubtrugs) I finally had most of the mess cleaned up. That wind storm was insane. I'm used to these many cones falling gradually, not all at once.

In more exciting news, Mr. Big was moved and just may be in his forever home, finally. 

Who's Mr. Big? My oldest agave, a variegated Agave Americana that I bought at Rare Plant Research back in 2006 or 2007 (record keeping pre-blog is a little hazy). That's him on the right, in his new container.

Here he was in August of 2007... back when containers were staged along the driveway. Before there was a patio, before there were stock tanks in this very spot. Oh how times have changed.


It's also interesting (to me at least) to note that the poor guy spent some serious time frozen during the cold of December 2009, when his container was moved into the garage (no shade pavilion greenhouse yet either). However he recovered just fine, the benefits of being kept dry. There are photos of those limbs frozen solid in this post

My god look at how clean the patio and wall were back in 2009...

Back in 2014 he spent some time in the tall green container to the left of the stock tank pond, although then he was in a black nursery pot that could be lifted out in the fall.

Another 2014 shot. Note the green container on the right of the stock tank, that's where he's living now.

For the last few years this corner of the upper back garden has been Mr. Big's home. The same black nursery pot slipped right into that metal cache pot. And no, it's not your imagination. Mr. Big (so named because he really was HUGE when I brought him home) has been steadily shrinking.

Now that his roots have been freed from the confines of a small (5 or 7 gallon) pot... hopefully he'll be very happy.

He is a beautiful plant...

Sadly variegated Agave americana are not reliably hard here in Portland, although Mr. Big has never been inside the house. He seems to do okay outdoors as long as he stays dry, so I'll be building a nice PVC cover for him come winter.

Longtime readers may have also noticed the wire wall around the back of the stock tank is gone. I decided I was done fighting the raccoons. The canna in the tall planter is (I think?) designed to be raccoon proof, "ish" I mean they can't knock it off it's cement block pillar, like they did with the old pond plants. It's got a heavy base and is sunk into the tube. That's not to say I think the little masked asshats can't still destroy things.

I know the water hyacinth are begging to be cut up with their knife-like paws. I'm not attached, they were just the only floaters available when I went shopping. Since then I've added bits of my Lysimachia nummularia as it needs to be pulled (it's a very abundant creeper). It seems to be quite happy floating and I like to have a place to toss it besides the yard waste bin.

I'm enjoying the tank pond without the reinforcements around it. So far no raccons have gone for a swim, but they usually hold off until late in the season, so we shall see.


On to the plant surprises! Over where the Lysimachia nummularia is planted in the ground, I was stunned to find the rhizomatous begonias are coming back...again!

Crazy! For some of these plants this means they've made it thru two winters. 

I never would have thought it possible.

Then again—even though there was snow and cold and ice—it didn't dip below the mid-20's in my garden so I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised?

The final surprise of this post are these adorable leaves. A desert fern, Bommeria hispida. One of my Agave ovatiolia in the front garden had a yellowing leaf low, against the ground, that I wanted to remove, it required armored clothing and laying down in the gravel.

I was successful and while there discovered this fern had been happily existing between the agave and a Euphorbia rigida—I thought it had perished. Now that I know I'll be keeping an eye on it—but trying resist the temptation to move it, since it's happy there.

All material © 2009-2021 by Loree Bohl for danger garden. Unauthorized reproduction prohibited and just plain rude.

Wednesday, June 2, 2021

A Memorial Day Weekend hike, with consequences

While I would have been content with a 3-day weekend spent in the garden, Andrew had other ideas. He wanted to return to the Salmon River Trail, a magical place we visited last fall (my posts here and here). 

Back then we hiked the main trail up to the point where the salmon were spawning (I shared a video of that on Instagram, here), but now he was curious about what lay around the bend. So why not? I deserved a day out playing, off we went...

Oxalis oregana was everywhere, there were huge patches of it in many places but I only managed this one shot.

There were also many fallen trees, some already serving as a home for an entire eco-system.

I could have spent an hour just looking at the plants here, but instead we marched on...

I thought these looked a little like orchid leaves popping up through the moss. I have no clue what they actually are. (update from Evan: Clintonia uniflora, a lily relative

Moss sculpture!

There were only a few skunk cabbage (Lysichiton americanus) along the trail, but they were looking rather luminous. 


It was nice to see there's still water up in the mountains, it's been a very dry spring here in Western Oregon.

Here's 15 seconds of tranquility for you (sound on)...

There was sun at the high points on the trail, usually filled with Sedum spathulifolium.

So back to the title of this post; "a hike with consequences"...

Here's a lovely river view I enjoyed for a short stretch of time while Andrew fished. Unfortunately I wasn't just relaxing. I was soaking my ankle in the ice cold river hoping to reduce the swelling from a nasty ankle twisting incident. 

As we stood on the trail, looking down at the river—Andrew heading down to fish—I said "I think I'll stay up here"... then looking it over closer and seeing a navigable pathway, I decided I'd go down too. That was a big mistake. I slid on some loose dirt and small rocks, and my foot didn't slide with me. There were snaps, I felt them and they were loud enough that Andrew heard them. Damn. All I could think was "how am going to get all the way back to the car?" which was something like a mile and a half away...

I walked. I'm sure it wasn't the best thing that I could do—we did stop so I could give it an icy soak again—but what other choice did I have?

Back at the car I snapped these photos of Oplopanax horridus, aka devil's club (I think). Nope! Another Evan update, this is Heracleum maximum.

And Maianthemum racemosum (formerly Smilacina racemosa), aka false Solomon’s Seal

As I write this post my ankle is swollen up something awful and the bruising has set in and is making all quite dramatic. Since I can stand and walk (carefully, flat footed) without any pain I am assuming it's not broken, but I may have torn some ligaments. So much for active gardening for awhile...

All material © 2009-2021 by Loree Bohl for danger garden. Unauthorized reproduction prohibited and just plain rude.

Monday, May 31, 2021

My alternate early life in Monrovia, CA

I was a blond baby, a towhead. It wasn’t just the baby years either, that blond hair lasted into my toddler years and beyond. This however, is not a photo of me—although it looks a lot like my mom when she was just a little girl.

The photo appeared on our fridge one winter’s day. Andrew bought it because to him it looked like me—a girl happy to be outside—the California kid version, if I’d grown up somewhere with palm trees (there are no palm trees in Eastern Washington). What he didn’t know is that at that age I was all dresses all the time. I refused to wear pants. Funny now I haven’t worn anything but pants in at least 10 years… 

Here’s another photo from Andrew, well a postcard actually. It’s my dream opuntia tree. I would be thrilled to have this in my garden.

The back of the post card. I think it says “Monrovia 25ft high”. So, in my alternate California life perhaps I live in Monrovia, CA, with my 25 ft tall opuntia tree?

Today is Memorial Day here in the USA, what my grandparents used to call Decoration Day because it was the day you decorated the graves of your loved ones (I know for many it's about military dead but that's not how I understood the day growing up). Andrew and I will be making a trip home to Spokane soon—finally an opportunity to see my parents, after COVID has kept us apart for more than 18 months. Sadly it will also be an opportunity to memorialize, and bury my mother's brother, my Uncle Har who we lost last month. He wasn't a COVID casualty but because of COVID we weren't able to see him after our visit of December 2019. Hug your loved ones, you just never know.

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All material © 2009-2021 by Loree Bohl for danger garden. Unauthorized reproduction prohibited and just plain rude.