Anigozanthos2. Portland Garden Show.

 

Yesterday Ning & I went to the Portland Garden show. Lots of booths. Many of them (most?) of course, more about grills and hot tubs and decks than about gardening. Not really complaining - this is a business convention center and hippies in torn jeans are not going to finance a big garden show. It was fun to look at the booths. I did my part to support the venders, buying this Anigozanthos ("Kanga", burgundy) and a tuber for a hardy Ginger (Hedychium "Pink Flame", claiming to have the fragrance of apricot jam). I grew a hardy ginger a few years ago, but gave up after 3 years without a blossom. We'll see how this one does.

It's supposed to snow tonight. Will post if it does.

More Random Thoughts. Rambling on roses.

In the previous entries on global warming, I commented about how gardening influences our attitudes about nature, and the importance of feeling connected to the rhythms of nature by gardening. The thoughts today will be about working with the local climate and growing conditions. The example will be roses (because that is where my rambling mind drifted).

When we first started gardening here, we planted a series of rose bushes in the front yard. The soil was compacted, rock-hard clay. The roses were big-box store Hybrid Teas. It was summer. We dug big holes, soaking the ground, digging, soaking, digging. We mixed compost into the clay and added it back around the roses. The roses were watered frequently, and given some rose-food granules. They grew rapidly. Blossoms, black-spot and aphids ensued.

More watering, more fertilizers, more aphids and black spot, more sprays. Not a lot of flowers, although some were big, classic Hybrid Tea blossoms. Ultimately, it didn't seem worth the trouble, and other gardening priorities took over.

I became uncomfortable with this methodology. First, it wasn't very rewarding. The blossoms were not that spectacular, not that many, and they faded quickly. Second, I wanted to grow more edible items, and the idea of eating rose-poisons in my tomatoes wasn't appealing. Third, it seemed too much like work, and not enough like fun.

The roses started to take then 'back burner' as the rest of the yard filled with kitchen-garden plants, trees, and shrubs. Other ornamentals were added. We experimented with David Austin roses and other varieties that were thought to be less chemical-intensive. We started cuttings from rose bushes that seemed to do well locally. We quit the chemicals, went organic, started mulcing and composting, and drastically cut back on the watering. Some varieties died and were not replaced. Others looked so bad, or performed so poorly, that I dug them up.

Others have persisted, and they actually looked better than they did with the fertilizers and chemicals. The blossoms were not as big, but they seemed to last longer. There was less black spot, and fewer aphids. They have been much less work.

I think, that what happened, was an evolution, both for the roses, and for me, in adapting to the local conditions and the inherent capablities of each plant. The ones that were better adapted to this climate and growing conditions, remained. They used less resources, including watering. They required no chemicals, because the chemical-requiring ones either died or were removed.

The result now is a less picture-perfect, but better adapted rose bed. There are still quite a few rose bushes, and I enjoy them more.

This entry is the result of rambling. The photo is a retaining wall, built from a pile of broken-up driveway down the street 2 years ago. I was going to write about reusing local materials, and using locally adapted plants, like the mosses on the stones. I rambled instead into the roses, but left the photo anyway.

More Fig Cuttings. Bulbs & seeds.

On the gardenweb fig forum, there are a couple of postings (and here)about starting fig cuttings by wrapping them in moist paper towels and placing them into a zip-lock bag. So I decided to try that, starting now, with the remaining Desert King cuttings.
After my "eloquent" discussion earlier today about the joys of "non-consumerist gardening", and how wonderful it is to grow plants from starts rather than purchasing them... Here are some purchases today from Portland Nursery. :) At least I don't claim to be "environmentalist fundamentalist" here.

Harbingers of Spring

Daffodils are twice as big as last week.
Ning's garlic sprouts are growing quickly.
Desert King Fig cuttings. Buds have formed. Roots take longer so they need special care.They are in a South window, inside a plastic zip-loc bag, partially open.
The radishes have germinated.

Thoughts on Gardening and Global Warming II.

Here is the second "installment" of somewhat random thoughts on gardening and global warming. Again, the issue of 'connectedness'.

I was thinking about the difference between BUYING a plant for the garden, and STARTING my own. And why it matters.

Somehow, in the 'consumerized' version, a tree, or shrub, just seems like an item that has been placed there in the yard, like furniture. Maybe, if it is purchased at a small size, a sense of nurturing takes over, and the plant seems to belong. This is especially true if it is planted and continues to develop over the years.

I have a different sense for a plant that I start myself. If started from a cutting or seed, it feels more like it is part of me. If started from a plant that was passed down from my family, or a gift from a friend, or a 'rescue' from the street, then even more, I feel like I am connected to this part of nature, and it is connected to me. It's not just something that I bought at a store.

The ginkgo tree in the back yard was grown from seeds that my Dad collected from Herman Degee's yard in Quincy Illinois. That was the ginkgo tree that I was taught was special, when I was 10 years old (special due to the primordial character of Ginkgo biloba). My dad has a seedling tree from that original source in his yard, and now I have one in my yard as well. I feel completely different about this tree, than any other item in the garden. I really WANT it to grow and flourish.

Less intense, but similar, is how I feel about the fig trees that I started from cuttings (mailed in exchange from garden web members, or rescued from a neglected tree on a vacant lot), and the forsythia that I grew from a small pruning (picked up on the street while walking the dogs), and the mint that I grew from a sprig seen in rescued yard waste that had been discarded in the dog park (and which turns out to be more flavorful - really - than the plants that I bought at a local nursery). Then there are the Chinese chives, grown from seeds from plants that were grown from seeds, 3 plant-generations from seeds that Ning brought here from China. This variety is more robust and stronger in flavor compared to the nursery-grown ones (probably because it was a local agricultural, not horticultural, variety). A separate set of Chinese chives came from my parent's yard, having grown there for 35 or 40 years as a weed. I don't know how they will taste yet. Others - roses, one started from a bouquet brought to work, another 'rustled' from an abandoned telephone-pole rose that is no longer there.

An additional step removed, are the vegetables and flowers grown annually from purchased seeds. I think that if I saved my own seeds (obviously, not from the hybrids), the connection would be stronger. But as it is, they are still a little more 'mine' than ones bought as plants at the store.

What does this have to do with global warming? Again, if we don't feel connected to nature, then it's difficult to be motivated to conserve out natural world. And that connectness is a lot stronger, for me, if it comes from the heart, instead of the wallet. If we could "un-consumerize" and "re-connect" to the life growing around us, we might feel more strongly about wanting to do something about it.

(photo above, a ginkgo on Mill Plain, source of more seeds that I planted for the past 2 years, and now I need to find homes for the seedling trees).