No excuses…I am back.

One of my big attractions to the garden is the evolution that takes place there from time to time.  It’s great to plant seeds and seedlings and see the results but even more amazing for me is when plants proliferate without a plan.  It happen when Alexis moved east from San Francisco.  The pot of Purple Shamrock Plant (Oxalis regnellii 'Francis')  

she had cultivated into a nice houseplant was one of several plants we inherited.  After several months tufts of Oxalis began appearing in various locations throughout the Toluca Lake garden.  The Oxalis was never planted outside and came to us as an indoor houseplant.  To this day it pops up from time to time adding an accent with its dark leaves and delicate, very light lavender flowers.   

A similar incident happened with horsetail (Equisetum), but in the case of this one hundred million year old plant it was more of a break out than a seemingly inexplicable phenomenon that I experienced with Oxalis.  Aware of the invasive nature of this species I kept it in a garden container against the garden wall.  Other plants (weeds) grew around the container and well I forgot about it.  I forgot about it until I noticed shoots coming up as far as 50 feet from the container. I pulled at them religiously until I realized that some of them created an interesting juxtaposition among the roses, fava beans and exotic pepper plants, which is generally what I grow in the front garden in Toluca Lake.  They are still there and depending what they grow in close proximity to they either stay or go.  It’s a workable situation, but I have no choice anyway.

I have to say thought that my most amazing case of unplanned proliferation of a plant has been with the ancient grain Amaranth (Amaranthus).  Four years ago we were driving up CA Highway 1 to Moss Landing and saw a sign that proclaimed, “ Nursery Going Out of Business”.  We immediately pulled off the road and down the dusty road to a “backyard” nursery being helmed by a brother and sister about twelve. or thirteen years old.  It’s important to note that the photo I have posted for the going out of business sale was not taken  four years ago when we went to the nursery, but last week on the way out Highway one to Santa Cruz.  Marketing has no limits.  That said the prices were good, despite the limited stock and we came away with 2 four inch pots of a lovely dark red plant.  I had no idea what they were.  The following day we headed back to Los Angeles with the new plants in the back of the car and several days later planted them in the front garden for color accent.  The plants never grew much more than the size they were in the four inch pots and eventually withered away.  The next year is when the action started.  I noticed just a few small seedlings throughout the garden that had green leaves with a faint red edge to them.  I had no idea what they were and decided that I would let them grow and see what I had volunteering.  Business called and I was out of town for several weeks. Upon my return it was like Jack coming upon the fabled beanstalk.  The plants had shot up at least ten feet and had flowing clusters of dark red flowers that looked like small beads.  Mind you they looked nothing like the Amaranth I had planted the year prior.  

They lasted most of the summer and well into the fall.  When they looked shabby I cut them and pulled the trunks out by the roots.  At this point they had trunks about three inched in circumference.   The following year they came back, but double the amount as the first year, and bigger.  I started to investigate the species and learned that they were in fact the Amaranth, specifically Amaranthus caudatus, although larger and more majestic that the one I had originally planted.  This was the year we hosted Jan’s family Christmas party and I knew plant enthusiast and butterfly cultivator Don Lewell would have a million questions so I boned up on factoids for the teacher from the beach about Amaranth.
Amaranth of which there are 70 species originated in South America.  The entire plant is used as food depending on the culture you are looking at.  The leaves are frequently consumed as are the mature roots and complement salads soups and stir fry dishes.  Its red hued seeds make a  deep red dye, that resembles the synthetic manufactured "Red Dye #2", so similar that manufactures have come to brand Red Dye #2 as "Amaranth" in their packaging.

In the age marketing for health most everyone knows that Amaranth is the “ancient grain”.  Personally I find it very hard to take unless it is eaten with massive quanities of butter, cheese, or high grade olive oil and sea salt.  So then…what’s the point?   I find it more valuable for its aesthetics, its inflorescences that cascade down at many points on the large stalks of green leaves kissed by a redish hue. 

They are called the Tassle Flower and most frequently “Love Lies Bleeding,” my favorite.  The Amaranthus or “Love Lies Bleeding” has been the subject of great poetry.  William Wordsworth described it nicely in 1888;

You call it, "Love lies bleeding,"--so you may,

Though the red Flower, not prostrate, only droops,

As we have seen it here from day to day,

From month to month, life passing not away:
A flower how rich in sadness! Even thus stoops,

(Sentient by Grecian sculpture's marvellous power)

Thus leans, with hanging brow and body bent

Earthward in uncomplaining languishment

The dying Gladiator. So, sad Flower!

('Tis Fancy guides me willing to be led,                    

Though by a slender thread,)
 So drooped Adonis bathed in sanguine dew

Of his death-wound, when he from innocent air

The gentlest breath of resignation drew;

While Venus in a passion of despair

Rent, weeping over him, her golden hair

Spangled with drops of that celestial shower.

She suffered, as Immortals sometimes do;

But pangs more lasting far, 'that' Lover knew

Who first, weighed down by scorn, in some

lone bower did press this semblance of unpitied smart Into the service of his constant heart,    

His own dejection, downcast Flower! could share With thine, and gave the mournful name which thou wilt ever bear.

Right now when this spectacular plant is in bloom, I wonder at it, I cut the cascades of flowers for the house, and as the flowers dry I heave them into a wooden wagon for the mourning doves.  This winter I am determined to harvest the seeds and come up with some palatable dishes to enjoy.  We shall see.

They're back...

On May 15, 2011 I wrote about the California Oak Moth  as it decimated (not permanently) our Carmel Valley oak tress and dropped it larvae (tiny caterpillars) on my head and into my evening cocktail.  I followed the law of the land and did nothing.  Oh I swept and blew and hosed, but they just kept coming.  At the height of the larvae growth they formed great curtains of webs that made the stately oaks look like Halloween decorations out of season.  They lasted a good portion of the summer of 2011. Frankly we stayed out of the Valley last summer.  They won.

We arrived last week after a month’s absence and in that month they were back.  Not as many, but enough to cover rails and fall on you.  Lounging on the outdoor decks was out of the question.  Time to fight back!

I came across the services of Charlie Phillips company, Stillwater Landscaping & Maintenance.  Charlie has the non-toxic method of eliminating the oak moth larvae.  It’s important to note that although we are now interested in death for the oak moth, we would rather stay away than use a method of eradication that hurt other bugs, birds, or wildlife.  Charlie, and some research proved that he’s the man.  Charlie uses Btk.

Bacillus thuringiensis kurstaki (Btk) is a subspecies of a naturally occurring bacterium, Bacillus thuringiensis, commonly found in soil and plants. It is used as a biological insecticide to control crop-damaging moths.  Btk affects only leaf-eating caterpillars. It has no effect on adult insects. Btk does not kill the insect on contact, but instead must be ingested to be effective. When ingested, proteins produced by Btk that are harmful to caterpillars damage their digestive systems, causing them to stop feeding and die. This effect is specific to the caterpillars. The digestive systems of humans and other mammals differ from caterpillars, and as a result, they are not harmed by the proteins. Humans and other mammals have highly acidic environments in their stomachs that destroy Btk before it can causes infection. Because the Btk endotoxin requires extremely alkaline conditions to become active (such as those found in the guts of gypsy moths and other caterpillars). Btk does not affect animals with acidic stomach environments such as birds, fish, and mammals.

Charlie says it takes about 6 – 10 days for the catepillars to get sick and succumb to the bacterium.  I am leaving the Valley today but will be back in a couple of weeks.  Hopefully I will be sweeping up he mess.

The blessings it confers are incalcuable

I see a palm trees everyday. There are roughly 2600 spieces of Arecaceae, but not that many varieties in Los Angeles. Like the wait staff of many restaurants seeking fame in Hollywood, the palm trees aren’t even from Los Angeles. They were brought here 100 years ago or more from Latin America and other exotic lands. That was only a beginning. Hundreds of Mexican Palms, which look a lot like the Canary Island Date Palm and were planted throughout the modest neighborhoods of south Los Angeles to herald the 1932 Olympics, and are still thriving. Los Angeles is full of them. Local officials really don’t care for them. They look good on post cards and because they have become the universal sign for vacation the tourism boosters are big supporters, but those with a more practical point of view disagree. Their tall, bare trunks make them inferior when it comes to providing shade, and their scant leaves make them less effective at trapping air pollution. Stand next to an oak tree, feel the shade. Stand next to a palm tree or stand next to a telephone pole…no difference. The yearly clean up cost for palm trees in Los Angeles is about $350,000, but to really maintain them the right wat would cost upwards of $385,000. Its hard to predict their future in Los Angeles. The city doesn’t replace a palm that succumbs to fungal disease or those that grow into the power lines and are removed overnight, with another palm. You get a magnolia, maybe a jacaranda, . Twenty Five year ago I purchased four five gallon palms. One still is potted and is of somewhat manageable size. The other three, they went into the ground. Out of those three two were cut down by The Los Angeles Department of Water & Power (into the lines) the other one is amazingly tall and must be professionally pruned each year of the little date nuts that form in the stratosphere. Frankly I could do without the palms. But a worthless tree? In the age of supermarkets, hardware and clothing stores I guess they are low on the scale. But this wasn’t the case in the mid 19^th century. Read what travel writer Herman Melville wrote in 1846 about the cocoa nut palm tree.

“ The blessings it confers are incalculable. Year after year, the islander reposes beneath its shade, ( OK I know the shade, but in there never have been many oak groves in the Polynesian chain) both eating and drinking of its fruit; he thatches his hut with its boughs, and weaves them into baskets to smaller ones , with bowls for his pipes, the dry husks kindle his fires; their fibres are twisted into fishing lines and cords for his canoes; he heals his wounds with a balsam compounded from the juice of the nut, and with the oil extracted from its meat embalms the bodies of the dead.

The noble trunk itself is far from being valueless. Sawn into posts, it uphold the islander’s dwelling; converted into charcoal, it cooks his food; and supported on blocks of stone, rails in his lands. He impels his canoe through the water with a paddle of the wood, and goes to battle with clubs and spears of the same hard material.

In pagan Tahiti a cocoa-nut branch was the symbol of regal authority. Laid upon the sacrifice in the temple, it made the offering sacred; and with it the priests chastised and put to flight the evil spirits, which assailed them. The supreme majesty of Oro, the great god of their mythology, was declared in the cocoa-nut log from which his image was crudely carved. Upon one of the Tonga Islands, there stands a living tree revered itself as a deity. Even upon the Sandwich Islands, the cocoa-palm retains all its ancient reputation; the people there thought of adopting it as the national emblem.”

Obviously The Los Angeles City Council doesn’t see eye to eye with Melville’s thoughts as he contemplated the story of the great white, but they do have a point of view. Do we lose our iconic palm tree, is the symbol of Los Angeles destined to morph into a jacaranda? The world has changed and the palm’s values have died.

Phryganidia californica

Its the stuff science fiction movies are made from. Bleary eyed from an early morning flight, I walk outside into the hazy fog that only the Central Coast of California knows at 10 AM. The verdant oak tress are barren, the garden paths are paved in a yellowy powder, and every railing, tree trunk, Adirondack chair, is covered with thousands of one inch caterpillars with little red round heads. Avoiding sitting or stepping or squashing one with your hand is unavoidable. Too bad because these creatures ooze green when exploded by pressure.

But this is real, this is the oak moth.

Every decade or so, maybe in some places, more frequently (obviously my property), the California oak moth, Phryganidia californica populations explode and defoliate large areas of coast live oak. In 2007, parts of Monterey, Carmel and Del Rey Oaks supported an outbreak. This continued in 2008 and extended in patches inland to Carmel Valley Village. This is a natural part of the life cycle of the coast live oaks. But somewhat worrisome since it was only three years since the last population explosion.

My first reaction was that I was loosing my beautiful ancient oaks. It was tough for me when a 200 + foot specimen died of natural causes and I had to have it taken down. This would be devastating. I called my Carmel Valley nature guru Jon Augustitus who assured me this was part of nature and that the tress would all come back stronger. He also explained that in times of drought this was nature’s way of making the giant oaks less dependent on water. But now the caterpillars, and the yellow powder…what’s up?

Moths, like butterflies, are part of the order Lepidoptera and thus have a similar life cycle. Females lay whitish eggs in clusters on twigs and leaves; the eggs turn reddish or brownish as hatching approaches. I must admit I never saw this coming. The eggs hatch into tiny black caterpillars or larvae. The mature larvae are 20–30mm long and are olive green with black and yellow longitudinal lines along the back and sides and have a reddish head. These are the monsters that defoliated my oaks. When they are ready, the larvae enter the pupa stage. The pupae are white or yellow with black markings and are found hanging from bark, leaves, and branches. When the pupa is mature, an adult oak moth will emerge. And this is what I have to look forward to; as many moths as there are caterpillars!

Ok so this explains the bare trees and the creepy little crawlers that by the way fall from the trees into my hair, on my clothes; one even took a dive into my small batch bourbon. What about the yellow powder?

It’s the frass. When oak moth caterpillars begin feeding they drop frass. Their frass is small and golden brown in color. What’s frass? Simple, frass is the indigestible part of my oak leaves. Frass is caterpillar poop. I am just amazed at the amount!

In situations like this my knee jerk reactions is to call someone; some kind of exterminator. This time though I am going on what I am being told. It’s part of nature’s order. I am able to bask in her beauty so why not follow her rules.

I will report back and let’s not forget the moths that are due in thirty days or so.

Secret Garden (Back Garden Update)

Alexis suggested this update. In April of 09 I posted that I wanted to get rid of my back lawn and install small pebbles, redirecting my irrigation to the perimeter narrow gardens. I had Sloane and a friend scrape the grass, had a dump truck unload a lot of tiny pebbles, and Jan wheel barrowed the rocks into place. Done. No. In September of 2009 Jan and I went to New York for three months. On our return a grassy weed has taken over the pebbles. Tony and the boys came in, shoved the pebbles to the side, pulled the weeds, and covered the earth with a black cloth that lets rain through but not vegetation. This black cloth was something that I had originally considered but thought I might dodge that bullet. Nope. It is an important element. Even the lengthy walkways in Carmel that are covered in small pebble, have to be majorly weeded every spring after the fall rains. If you want it maintenance free the black cloth is a must. Jonathan Henry came over for dinner last week and settled back in the back garden casually calling it a secret garden. He didn’t realize what a compliment he paid me.