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.