Let's Just Call It A Peanut Bloom

My Chamaelobivia x Fire Chief bloomed again today. This one is part of a potted cactus garden with seven different genera and/or species in the arrangement. The two single specimens I have of the C. x Fire Chief also bloomed this past week. None of them produced the numerous flowers of last year.

The C. x Fire Chief is one of the most popular of the peanut cactus hybrids and is readily available in any nursery, at least around Arizona. This hybrid produces several rounds of short-lived blooms that are about two inches across. They need light shade in summer in Phoenix, but other than watering when dry, they require no special care.

This hybrid has an interesting ancestry. It is a cultivar developed by Harry Johnson. From my understanding, it is a hybrid of an Echinopsis crossed with a Chamaecereus silvestrii. Usually it’s called the peanut cactus, which is the common name for Echinopsis chamaecereus, but it is more complex than the plain peanut cactus. The peanut cactus is also called Chamaecereus sylvestrii. At least that's what I have gathered.

It's really difficult and frustrating for me as a non-scientist--but a stickler for detail--to try to use the proper form when writing out plant names and having to worry about such things as epithets, hybrids, complex hybrids, varieties, botanical forms, cultivars, interspecific and intergeneric hybrids, along with all the different capitalization, italics, and abbreviation rules. Then there's the latest nomenclature to remember for specific genera newly grouped with another group, and on and on. Actually, it's more than difficult; it's a big pain in the ass!

Perhaps I'll just start calling my plants by their regional common names and stop worrying about form. I could sure save myself a lot of aggravation and work. After all, this is a blog, not a freaking scientific manuscript!

As The Worm Turns, The Agave Goes

When a plant grows well in open desert, then it’s usually a sure bet for success as a landscape planting. Agaves are a good example. With full sun and an occasional long drink, Agaves will thrive with minimal care. Too much care can lessen the lifecycle of Agaves, rather than increasing it.

The Agave americana is a great xeriscape plant if you have the room. It is the largest of the Agave genus, and grows to six feet or more in height and width at maturity. It has a striking blue gray color with clearly defined leaf imprints that remain for the life of the plant. The photo of one of my plants shows the wonderful color and leaf imprints.

If you like to acquire free baby plants, the A. americana provides plenty of “pups” to build your collection. I’ve replanted three of the pups so far, and the large Agave has produced two more that I will transplant into large pots or give away. Potted Agaves look great. Surprisingly, these large A. Americanas can be grown well in small pots. Keep in mind that because of their rapid growth upward and outward growth, it’s difficult to move the pots, so a decision on a permanent pot home should precede the potting. If you get too close to Agaves, you’ll pay a price, either by a painful stab wound from the dangerous terminal spine or from the flesh-tearing marginal spines, so they shouldn’t be placed where someone could be injured.

I’m not looking forward to blooms. Those probably won’t come for at least another six years, but blooms could wait for up to 25 years. The A. Americana’s flower spikes can reach a height of 30 feet in about four months. The plant spends its lengthy lifecycle storing energy to send out a flower spike, and once that occurs in the A. americana, it spells death for the plant. The common name for the Agave americana is the century plant, alluding to its lengthy life before blooming and dying.

About the only thing that can kill off an Agave--other than blooming--is the agave snout weevil and that pest especially loves the A. Americana. Summertime is when the larvae do the damage. They eat the roots, stems and leaves, and in the process, leave areas where bacterial infections fester, which then rots the plants.

I’ve treated my Agaves preventatively with a systemic insecticide made especially for this pest, but that doesn’t always work. Sometimes the larvae do damage and there will be no outward signs of infestation until the plant suddenly wilts, collapses and dies. If that happens, dispose of the plant debris and any weevils and grubs found in the surrounding soil, and then treat the ground with the appropriate chemicals.

I especially love the A. americana for its distinctive leaf impressions. Others love it because if it weren’t for the Agave, they wouldn’t have the worm (the agave snout weevil, no less) in their bottles of mescal, and what's a drink without the worm!

...And Maybe Some Yellow Flowers.

Ode To Some Yellow Flowers

Rolling its blues against another blue,

the sea, and against the sky

some yellow flowers.

October is on its way.

And although

the sea may well be important, with its unfolding

myths, its purpose and its risings,

when the gold of a single

yellow plant explodes in the sand

are bound

to the soil.

They flee the wide sea and its heavings.

We are dust and to dust return.

In the end we're

neither air, nor fire, nor water,

just

dirt,

neither more nor less,

just dirt,

and maybe

some yellow flowers.

~Pablo Neruda

Pyrenacantha malvifolia

The most unusual succulent I own is a Monkey Chair, (Pyrenacantha malvifolia,) purchased over a year ago from a rare-plant vendor. The P. Malvifolia is a caudiform that has an aboveground caudex that can eventually reach a diameter of three to five feet in habitat. It produces climbing stems with leaves that look like ivy. In its native eastern African rainforest, the plant grows by vining up into trees.

Summer is its growing season and it needs abundant watering right now. Since it is deciduous, it can go long periods without water in its winter dormancy stage, which has yet to happen. Since I have it in the house, it has not lost any leaves, so I’ve continued to water it, assuming it is in its growing season. I could put it outside--it will take full sun, which actually means light shade in Phoenix--but with its watering needs that would be real chore. The lowest temperature it can tolerate is 40˚ so it would have to come back in for part of the year anyway, so I’ll just leave it in the house until I learn more about it. Some succulents require forced dormancy by withholding water, but I’m unable to confirm if this is desirable for this genus.

I’ve left the P. malvifolia in its pumice filled original four-inch container. The vendor explained that this genus needs a very porous, well-drained medium to do well, and I haven’t yet purchased any pumice in order to transplant it into a nice pot, so it will stay in its plastic pot for a while longer.

There is remarkably little information available about the P. Malvifolia, at least in the places I’ve looked. I’ve researched various publications and asked questions at cactus and succulent nurseries, but no one yet has been able to help me. I’ve emailed the vendor, but she has not responded, so I’ll just continue to care for it as I have been.

Although my specimen has produced several leaves in the 18 months I’ve had it, the caudex has remained the same size. I guess I have no worries about a big, boulder-sized caudex bursting out of its pot, at least not in my lifetime.

Paper Cuts?

This Paper Spine Cactus (Tephrocactus articulatus var. papyracanthus) has been growing like a weed since I planted it in my garden in March. I don’t find it attractive, but it’s different enough from all my globular and columnar cacti that I wanted to add it to the garden.

In April, I thought it was developing flower buds, but it was actually growing five new pinecone shaped segments, which immediately grew many thin, flexible white papery spines. Although the spines are forgiving, the edges of the spines can give a painful paper cut if touched just right. Because of its unusual spines, it is occasionally used as a houseplant, and it does well as long as it has adequate bright light.

A problem with the Paper Spine Cactus and other Tephrocactus articulatus varieties is that the segments break apart very easily, so the cactus doesn’t get very tall or wide. Those separated segments readily root on their own, so if you don’t want a yard full of them they need to gathered up and given away as potted houseplants to unsuspecting relatives and friends.

“Some lives, like evening primroses, blossom most beautifully
in the evening of life.”
~ C.E. Cowen

'Barbara Karst', Miss Popularity

The landscape maintenance crew came by today to do their quarterly tree trimming, raking, and blowing of my garden and front yard. I was glad to see them, as there were millions of Bougainvillea bracts caught under shrubs, in cacti and in between the riprap in my meandering wash. The papery bracts have littered my landscape for weeks, because I refuse to do landscape maintenance myself in 105˚ plus temperatures.

Most people overlook this downside of Bougainvillea, as it is one of the most popular landscape shrubs in the low desert. Known for its outstanding beauty and sun loving nature, it actually flowers better with little water. If over watered, the shrub will have an abundance of lush green leaves but no flowers, thus defeating its purpose to provide color.

'Barbara Karst', a variety that flowers extremely well in intense heat, easily wins the Arizona Bougainvillea popularity contest. This variety comes in several colors. The intense pink as seen the photo is the best seller. Other varieties do grow here, but do not flower as profusely as the 'Barbara Karst' variety. Bougainvillea color actually comes from the many bracts that surround each of the tiny yellow flowers. If it weren’t for the bracts, the Bougainvillea would be just another green shrub.

Regardless of their beauty, Bougainvillea has some real liabilities. The branches are thorny and sprawling, and regular pruning and training is necessary for control, a move that shears off most of the colorful bracts. Bougainvillea is extremely messy. The dried, paper-like bracts blow all over with the slightest breeze. In addition, it is frost sensitive at 32˚ and the branches will be bare until warmer weather. However, it is possible to have year-round color in the years we have very moderate winters.

I’ve seen lots of photos in home and garden magazines featuring huge, fully flowered Bougainvillea arching over pristine swimming pools, walkways, and patios, with nary a dropped bract in sight. Hours of cleanup must have occurred in preparation for the photo shoot. I can’t imagine what that pool, walkway or patio must look like on just a regular day. My two small Bougainvillea drop enough bracts to cover my large property. From the size of the shrubs shown in the magazine layouts, the homeowners must be drowning in bracts, or else they have full-time gardeners who spend a good portion of their work days sweeping and pool cleaning.

So Many Cacti, So Little Room

Once a month I spend several hours attending the Central Arizona Cactus and Succulent Society meetings. The meetings are informative and I've learned a lot, but the fun part is the silent auction! Members bring in cacti and succulents that they offer up for auction for the benefit of the club. Attendees bid on the specimens and at the end of the meeting, you pay and gather up your winners. It's a good way for me to add to my collection without paying nursery prices, and sometimes to acquire rare specimens. And, it helps the club, so I sometimes bid in increments larger than necessary.

Today, I acquired two new cacti. The Stenocactus palmillas is on the left and the other is three Crow's Claw Cactus (Ferocactus latispinus) seedlings. The Stenocactus was marked Echinofossulocactus palmillas, its previous genus, which has since become part of the Stenocactus genus. Every time I acquire a new plant, I do research, just for curiosity’s sake. Unfortunately, I can find nothing on the this Stenocactus species, palmillas. It's frustrating, but eventually I may run into someone who can provide further information.

Another activity that our local Cactus and Succulent Society is involved in is rescuing cacti in the way of development. Arizona has some tough laws regarding safeguarding native cacti, so it is in the developer's best interest to find a way to rescue plants, so they frequently call upon the Society to help with the rescue effort. Members can, for the $5 cost of a required cactus tag, dig up the cacti. A member can buy as many tags as they wish and then keep the specimens for personal use. The club also purchases a number of tags, rescues the cacti, and then sells them at local cacti and succulent sales, which provides a major portion of the club's annual budget.

The downside of all this cheap access to numerous cacti? I don't know when to stop!

The Real Mexican

Several months ago, I replaced one of my frost-killed Ficus trees with a Mexican native, the Mexican Bird of Paradise shrub (Caesalpinia mexicana.) I intend to train it into a 10 to 15 foot, multi-trunked tree over the course of several years. We’ll need to have moderate winters to do that. Frost won’t kill it, but it will lose its momentum toward tree status, although it will come back in spring. In the summer, it doesn’t matter how hot it gets because the mexicana loves heat, and it is drought tolerant. It has many yellow flower clusters that start in March and last through October. As with most Caesalpinia, it does produce a moderate amount of litter as the seedpods drop and split.

The various species in the Caesalpinia genus can be confusing. Red Bird of Paradise, often called the Mexican Bird of Paradise, is really a different species and its flowers are completely different. Actually, the Mexican Bird of Paradise, especially the flower, more closely resembles the Caesalpinia cacalaco, or Cascalote Tree. Seven species of the Caesalpinia genus do very well in the Phoenix area, but range in frost tolerance from 20˚ to 30˚ depending on the species. So far, I only have the Red and Mexican Birds in my garden, but I'm considering a Cascalote Tree as another Ficus replacement.

Folks into herbal medicine use parts of the Caesalpinia Birds of Paradise for an astringent tea to soothe gastrointestinal distress, or as a poultice to relieve rashes and stings. Haven’t tried it myself and probably won’t. I’m more into Pepto-Bismol and Cortizone-10.

Solarized!

As I was cleaning out some files, I ran across an old joke that is fitting because in Phoenix on Thursday we had a high of 111˚, our hottest day of the year so far. For anyone interested in moving to Phoenix, consider that as a Phoenix resident, you:

Are willing to park three blocks away because you found shade.


Have experienced condensation on your butt from the hot water in the toilet bowl.


Can drive for four hours in one direction and never leave town.

Have over 100 recipes for Mexican food.

Know that "dry heat" is comparable to what hits you in the face when you open your oven door.


Know that the four seasons are: tolerable, hot, hot, and ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

Making A Mountain Out Of An Anthill

When I was a kid growing up on a dairy farm, my siblings and I were familiar with all the insects that flew and crawled around the farm, but not by their scientific names. Common names and sting potential were all we needed to identify the various insects. We learned the sting potential from personal experience. Our sting severity index went like this, in descending order. Scorpions, cow killers, wasps, bumblebees, mud- dobbers, bees, flying ants and big red ants. The last, and the least lethal, were little black ants. We called them "piss ants." We accepted their presence, didn’t bother them, and for the most part, they didn’t bother us, unless we accidentally interfered with them. When that happened, we suffered the painful consequences.

Well, now I’m grown up and I get upset when the little black and red ants make anthills all over my garden and on my brick patio. I can accept (barely) the hills in the garden, but not the ones on my brick sidewalks and patios. The ants like to push up the sand between the pavers. That leaves empty gaps, and those gaps continue to grow even after the ants vacate the spot and move on to another. I then have to sweep up the anthills, put new sand in the gaps and tamp it down, and wait for another hill to appear.

I got so tired of this endless routine that I had my pavers sealed at huge expense. That lasted less than a week. The ants just pushed through the polymer sealant barrier as if it wasn’t there and the vicious cycle began again. I was out over $1000—for nothing.

We have professional pest control treatment on a regular basis, and they use some type of bait that looks like cornmeal. It doesn’t work. The ants in the photo are completely unfazed by the bait; they seem to find a way around it to get to their hole.

I guess I’ll just stick to the sweeping routine. It’s certainly cheaper than all the failed ant thwarters I’ve tried so far. I should be happy that I haven’t been stung yet. And, I still don't know the scientific names of the creepy crawlies and I don't really want to.

Here's Looking At Ya...

This Owl's Eyes Pincushion (Mammillaria parkinsonii) bears a strong resemblance to a pair of owl's eyes, unlike several others I have whose two heads, even by a real stretch of the imagination, look nothing at all like owl's eyes.

In the past year, this specimen started branching into two heads, (dichotomous division) which is how this species grows. It started out as a regular looking single globe and as it has grown older, it has started its expected division. As it continues to grow, the two heads will separate even more, and more heads will appear, and the cactus will form a clump of many separate heads.

The flowers on this M. parkinsonii are off-white, almost tan color. It bloomed very sparingly this year, mostly on the outside edges of the “eyes.”

Oh Mamma!

Mammillarias make up the largest part of my potted cacti collection, and this Bird’s Nest Cactus, (Mammillaria decipiens ssp camptotricha) is one of the 21 Mammillaria species I currently have potted. I like its long, flexible white spines, which become denser in strong sunlight. It is currently flowering, and the tiny white flowers will barely poke through the spines when completely opened.

Most of my potted Mammillarias are exposed to full sun about eight months of the year, but I do move them into an afternoon shade location in late May through early September. I do that because some of the pots get super-heated in direct sun and I don’t want to chance cooked roots or have them permanently scarred from sunburn. I also have about seven more species of Mammillaria planted in my garden, and all are exposed to full sun. They are doing fine.

The one critical thing in caring for Mammillarias (or all cacti for that matter) is careful attention to watering in the winter when cacti are subject to rot from too much water. Many cacti don’t require any water when they are in a dormant period, which could be either summer or winter, depending on the genus or extremes in temperature.

All the Mammillaria species I have so far are easy to find because they are the easiest to grow, and that's what the nurseries stock. I always keep my eye out for something rarer when I’m in a cactus nursery, or even on line. If I wanted to collect them all, I would have to start my own nursery as there are between 200 to 300 species in this genus, although many are not commercially available.

One would think that Arizona nurseries would carry more species since most of the genus is native to the Southwest and Mexico, but that’s not the case. As a cactus lover, I think my expectations are unrealistic. I’m not sure the average person looking for a cactus specimen much cares about the genus, species, subspecies, and etcetera. I think they are mostly interested in whether the cactus is easy to care for and what color the flower will be.

Desert Workhorses

If you live in Arizona, you can't drive down a street, subdivision common area, or freeway without seeing dozens of these Red Birds of Paradise. Most every yard has a few, including mine, and after awhile, they are hardly noticed because they are so plentiful.

Right now, they are in all their glory, fully flowered and almost glowing in the sun. Many folks in Arizona refer to these shrubs as the Mexican Bird of Paradise, which is a misnomer. The Red Bird of Paradise is a Caesalpinia pulcherrima and the Mexican Bird of Paradise is a Caesalpinia mexicana, and it has yellow flowers. To make it even more confusing, there is a variety of Red Bird of Paradise that also has yellow flowers, called the Phoenix Bird of Paradise. And, add another, the Desert Bird of Paradise, Caesalpinia gilliesii, which has a different type of yellow flower. The other common name, not used much in Arizona, thank goodness, is Pride of Barbados. Adding another name to this befuddlement would be just too much!

The reason these shrubs are so abundant here is that they are perfect summer workhorses for our climate. They love the heat, the alkaline soil, survive easily in drought conditions, and flower for months. That's why they are chosen so often for public areas. However, this shrub can freeze back if it gets under 30 degrees, so it is best cut back in the winter. I have seven of these and we cut them back to 12 inches every November to keep them bushy and compact. If left to grow and the weather cooperates, the Red Bird of Paradise can be trained into a small tree, but I've never seen it done. We always seem to have several days of near freezing temperatures, making that type of growth impossible from year to year in the Phoenix area.

I think the Red Bird of Paradise looks best planted in groups of three or five rather than planted individually. The masses of flowers are even more dazzling when the shrubs are grouped together. As an added bonus, the Red Bird of Paradise is a hummingbird magnet.

Not Mellow About Yellow

Yellow is a ubiquitous color in the Arizona desert. It seems as if 80 percent of the plants are either a yellowish shade or produce yellow flowers. Yellow is not a favorite color of many gardeners, especially newcomers to the state, who decry the abundance to the point that a local landscape designer holds a popular seminar at the Desert Botanical Garden, entitled, Anything But Yellow!

I've tried to design my garden to include a minimum of yellow, but regardless of the advice given in the seminar, yellow still dominates, even though I’ve added various plants and flower colors to complement all that yellow. Sometimes the shape of a particular plant can be as important as the color choice and I think that has counterbalanced the preponderance of yellow in my garden.

My yellow-flowered Parodia magnifica bloomed today--the second yellow cactus flower in my garden to bloom this week. Although I, too, am getting a bit tired of the yellow in my garden, this is such a pretty cactus flower that I'm glad to have it, even if it is yellow. In addition, the flower is long-lived, lasting about a week. Mid-May is its usual flowering period, but as with many of my specimens this year, it has had several flowerings starting in early April.

If you look closely at this cactus, you can see it needs a good soaking because of the wrinkled appearance of the ribs. After snapping the photo, I gave it just that.

Arizona. Mellow, golden, sustaining, beautiful...
I tell you, this is a wonderful country.
~ Zane Grey

Desert Museum Palo Verde

The four Desert Museum Palo Verdes (Parkinsonia x 'Desert Museum’) I have in my garden have started another round of blooms, just three weeks after the last round. This hybrid is normally a heavy bloomer, known for its large, spectacular flowers starting in early spring and lasting until early summer. With supplemental water, they will have flowers off and on until fall as my trees do. Although these intermittent flowers are very light, with just a few on every branch, they add some needed color throughout summer.

I like these trees for several reasons. They are litter-free other than the masses of flowers dropped during the heavy bloom period in spring, followed by a short period of seedpod drop. Cleanup is easy because the dried flowers have a tendency to clump up naturally into piles, and the pods drop quickly and completely so there’s no ongoing cleanup. They are without thorns, and are usually multi-trunked with attractive, sculptural shapes. I’ve planted quite a few cacti and succulents under them because the trees produce just the right amount of dappled shade to act as nurse trees for sun sensitive varieties.

Developed at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum in Tucson about 20 years ago, the Desert Museum Palo Verde is a cross between three species of Palo Verdes. It has the best qualities of all three—sort of a super-Palo Verde without thorns, which is the main reason this hybrid has become one of the most popular landscape trees in Arizona in a relatively short time.

Heat Exhaustion

When the temperature reached 100 degrees by 11 a.m. today, on its way to a high of 110 degrees, I was sure the unfolding flower on this Golden Torch Cereus (Echinopsis spachiana) wasn’t going to make it. Cacti in the Echinopsis genus are nocturnal bloomers, but this specimen has always opened its flowers during the day, and instead of blooming in early April as expected, it has always bloomed in mid-October. For some reason, it decided to put out this one flower this past week. In seven days, the bud grew to almost eight inches long. Today when it began to open, the heat was just too much and it “died on the vine,” so to speak.

I’ve never figured out why this cactus has such odd habits. I’ve considered that it could possibly be another genus entirely, but it was labeled as an Echinopsis spachiana when I purchased it at a cactus nursery seven years ago, and although it is slower growing than expected, it has all the characteristics of a Golden Torch. Since it is in a pot, I’ve tried a different exposure every couple of years to see if that made a difference in its blooming habits, but it continued with its early fall, daytime blooming pattern.

Although the blooms of the Echinopsis genus are gorgeous, the scraggly outer surface reminds me of some hairy old coot who could use a trim.

Seed Success

As I was cleaning up some of the dried seed heads and other debris around my garden last month, on a whim I collected the seeds from my Coral Aloe (Aloe striata) and placed them in a plastic pot that held a sand, gravel and cactus soil mixture left over from a recently purchased and transplanted succulent.

I've never been much interested in seed propagation of cacti and succulents, so this was my first attempt and I really didn't expect much. To my surprise, in just a few days, eight tiny blades appeared in the soil mix--just the number of seeds I had planted. I was amazed at how easily they germinated--I actually felt like a kindergartener growing her first bean sprout!

I've since learned that Coral Aloe is one of the easiest succulents to propagate by seed, so it was a good choice--even if it was by chance that I chose those seeds. Aloe striata seedlings grow fast and should reach flowering size in three to four years. Although that's quick in the cacti and succulent world, it is not quick enough for me to consider becoming a seed propagation aficionado, but I think I'm going to have fun watching the progress of these eight baby Aloes.

This first success piqued my curiosity enough to check out information on seed propagation, and I've discovered a plant propagation database that has extensive information on just about any plant. I've perused this site for days now, and have learned quite a bit on the various methods of propagation. Who knows—at this rate, I may become a propagation aficionado after all.

Hot Tamale!

Here is a quick and easy dip to bring to your next potluck gathering. It’s different and it’s delicious! If you like it spicy, add chili powder to taste.



Tamale Dip

Ingredients

Two 14-1/2 oz. cans tamales

One cup minced onion—(about 1 fresh or 1 cup frozen chopped onions)

One 15 oz can chili

One lb grated cheddar cheese

Preparation

Remove tamale wrappers and coarsely chop by hand or in food processor.

Cover onions with plastic wrap and microwave on HIGH for 2 minutes.

Place chopped tamales in a 2 qt dish. Add onion, chili, and cheese.

Microwave on HIGH for 3 minutes, and then stir.
Microwave for an additional 3 minutes or until cheese melts.


Serve with tostadas.


Makes about 8 cups.

Red Scales in the Sunset

It finally happened. The cochineal bug has invaded my garden and attached itself to my lone Engelmann’s Prickly Pear (Opuntia Engelmannii.) Other than an occasional watering in the depths of summer, I normally don’t pay much attention to this cactus, so it was only by chance that I caught this invasion early and began to treat it.

The cochineal scale insect resides in small fluffy white webs on cactus pads, which is what it feeds on. Some cacti can become covered with cochineal scale, which will eventually kill the cactus if it is not treated. Cochineal is partial to Purple Prickly Pear (Opuntia Santa Rita) but so far, my two are unaffected. Birds spread the insect from cactus to cactus with their feet, so maybe it's just a matter of time.

The way to determine if the white fluffy stuff on a cactus pad is cochineal is to squeeze the web. If it’s cochineal, it will ooze a scarlet red color, as shown in the photo. To eliminate it, I spray the cactus with a power spray of water to rid it of the webs. This may not rid the cactus completely, but by keeping down the population, it will help keep the cactus healthy.

For centuries, the dried and crushed bodies of cochineal scale insects have been as a non-toxic fabric dye. This natural dye is becoming popular again among weavers, to the point that harvesting of the cochineal is a commercial enterprise in Mexico as well as other parts of the world. Thornless Prickly Pears are now available in these commercial enterprises for easier harvesting.

I’ve been experimenting with the stuff as a dye for gourd crafting, but I think it takes another ingredient to assure its permanency. I think I’ll stick to leather dyes and alcohol inks and leave the chemistry to others.

Passing Time, Avoiding The Heat By...

READING
The Secrets of Wildflowers: A Delightful Feast of Little-Known Facts, Folklore, and History by Jack Sanders. An exceptionally well-written, artistic book full of fascinating facts about wildflowers, for anyone interested in things beyond the biology. It is a delight.

CLICKING
Botanical Terms This is a good reference site to find the definition and origin of plant names and characteristics. I refer to it often.

WATCHING
Nothing gardening related, that's for sure, not when final episode of The Sopranos finally arrived. David Chase' ending of the series was brilliant. Whatever you wanted it to be...

DOING
Today I repotted three Mammillaria specimens from four-inch plastic nursery pots to six-inch clay pots, a job I've put off for weeks. I was motivated into action when I saw that for one of them, I had waited too long and it had died from lack of water, of all things. It isn't often that cacti die from lack of water--it's usually the opposite. There was not enough soil left in the pot, so the poor thing couldn't absorb enough water. I'm usually more careful, but the heat addles my brain.

CREATING
Altered digital imagery of my cacti and other plants using Adobe Photoshop Elements. Today and yesterday's photos are examples.

Red Hot Summertime Blues

Summer in the desert is not fun. As a native of Arizona, I know. Some folks who move here to escape from the snowy winters of other climates claim they love the summer heat. I think they are nuts. Who could truly love 110 degree-plus days, where the ground's surface and car interiors reach temperatures of 150 degrees? Native plants and animals don’t even like it!

My plants are beginning to go into their summer dormancy. The last of the early summer wildflowers have dried up and the only flowers left standing are a few heat-hardy Desert Marigolds, which should last all summer. Most of the cacti have finished their flowering, and even the tough Lantana bushes have a dusty, exhausted look. Several plants will continue to thrive, bloom and provide color through the summer; Red Bird of Paradise, Nerium Oleander, Cape Honeysuckle, and that old summer standby—Bougainvillea, but even with their help my garden will have a parched, thirsty appearance.

Summer dormancy is a coping mechanism that native plants use in order to conserve the water they have stored. They may look like hell for a few months, but they perk up when the weather cools in mid-September, sort of like people here in the desert.

Every year from June until October, I ask myself why I continue to live in this brutal climate. From October until June, I know why!

Echinopsis x 'Los Angeles'

When bright flowers bloom
Parchment crumbles,
My words fade
The pen has dropped…

~Morpheus

The One That Got Away

Some plants are tough to forget, and this Agave victoriae-reginae 'Compacta' falls in that category for me. Years ago, I saw it in Lowe's Garden Center and although it was love at first sight, I didn't buy it because I really didn't have a place for it. When I returned to Lowe's about a month later I was surprised to see it still there. It was the most expensive plant among the gallon container plants, and I think that's why no one had snagged it. I took it home that day, and found a place for it in my garden. Every time I looked at it, I marveled at its symmetry and flawlessness.

Queen Victoria Agaves are a staple in Arizona low desert gardens, and they come in a variety of forms. Some have long, narrow leaves edged in white; some are tight rosettes with wide leaves like the Compacta, and others have a more open, spiky appearance. None of the varieties, in my opinion, is as beautiful as the Compacta. Queen Victoria Agaves are native to north central Mexico where they are considered endangered. A nurseryman told me that they are getting harder to find, and that's why they are more expensive than other Agaves. Even he had not seen the Compacta variety in several years, so I was grateful to have stumbled upon mine.

Several years after planting it, we sold our home. I wanted to dig up that Agave and take it with me, but with a twinge of regret, I left it there for the new owner. When we started to landscape our current property, I looked in vain for another 'Compacta' but I've never found another one. I eventually settled for a couple of the more common Queen Victoria Agave varieties for my new garden and they are thriving, but I still remember with fondness the one I left behind.

There's part of the sun in an apple, There's part of the moon in a rose;
There's part of the flaming Pleiades In every leaf that grows.

Here Comes The Sun

Tender loving care is usually a better strategy than neglect for most everything, including plants, but occasionally, all that attention produces exactly opposite of the expected result. Such is the case with my Adenium arabicum ‘Shada’.

I became fascinated with caudiforms several years ago, and wanted to acquire an Adenium to start my collection. When I saw this good-sized specimen at a show, I just had to have it. It was not cheap—in fact, I paid more for it than any container plant I had ever purchased. I was determined to give it the best of care to protect my investment, so I kept it protected under my covered patio, carefully watered and fertilized it, and repotted it the second year. It looked great year-round with its unblemished caudex and full leaves that never dropped, even in the winter months when Adeniums usually go dormant. However, as well cared for and attractive as it was, it never flowered.

Although the ‘Shada’ variety puts more effort into growing a huge caudex than it does producing flowers, It should have flowered at least twice since its purchase. Adenium arabicum ‘Shada’ is native to Shada, Saudi Arabia, and the arabicum 'Shada' produces pink flowers that are smaller and less profuse than the more common obesum species, but I didn’t need a profusion of flowers—just some—so I lavished it with even more care, using a water meter, special fertilizer and anything else I could think of, and still no flowers.

In April, I attended a Cactus and Succulent show and found the dealer who sold me the plant. I told him about its lack of flowers and explained my care routine. He immediately said that the problem was too much shade, and that I should put it in direct sun (in Phoenix!) and let it “harden.” I told him I had moved it to partial sun the first year and it had burned and yellowed the leaves, so I immediately put it back under the patio believing it couldn't take much sun. He said the only way I would get flowers was to give it full sun and forget the burned leaves. As it acclimated, it would begin growing smaller leaves that could take the hottest summer day, and perhaps later this summer, or surely next spring, I would have flowers.


My formerly beautiful Adenium is looking kind of bald and pitiful right now. It has the tiny, “hardened” leaves that the dealer said it should have and it appears to be growing. The base is not sunburned, so I guess it's healthy, regardless of its current appearance. I just hope I get some flowers!

Don't Let The Name Fool You

Mugwort. Wormwood. Sagewort. One doesn’t conjure up attractiveness when hearing the common names given to Artemisia, but I think Artemisia x ‘Powis Castle’ is a beautiful plant with its silvery grey, feathery leaves and its camphor-like aroma.

Powis Castle does extremely well here in the Phoenix area year-round, and can grow into a three-foot mound in one season. It is great in containers, especially when combined with anything purple or orange in color, and it is good as a border or to fill in flowerbeds when nothing else will grow in the heat of summer. I also like using it standing alone as a specimen plant, as shown in the photo. Because it is evergreen in this climate, I prune Artemisia in late winter to maintain its bushiness and size. It does have a tendency to become woody as it matures, so pruning is a necessity.

Artemisia is not often suggested for Arizona gardens. Many think it looks too delicate amidst the boulders, gravel, and cacti that dominate desert landscaping. Used extensively years ago in Victorian gardens, it may seem more suitable for verdant landscapes, but I think it softens some of the strong elements that make up Southwestern gardens and fits right in with the cacti and rocks.

Artemisia, considered an herb, has been used throughout history for a variety of things from a moth repellent to the flavoring in vermouth, but I don’t plan to put it to work anywhere but in my garden. On second thought, I might make some potpourri. I’ve always liked the smell of camphor.

Lobivia Grandiflora—Maybe?

When this unidentified cactus bloomed today, I was able to narrow down its identity to the Lobivia genus. I should more accurately say that maybe it is of the Lobivia genus. And maybe its species is grandiflora. I used my reference book—500 Cacti Species & Variations in Cultivation, to compare the cactus’ characteristics to the various species in the book. However, even with this reference, I can’t know for sure. It meets most of the characteristics called out for Lobivia grandiflora, but the only sure way to know is to have the original label from the grower or from the nursery that it came from, or find an expert who can tell just by looking at it. (Any experts reading this? Please help!)

Not knowing for sure the genus and species of a cactus takes away some of the fun for me. I just have a burning need to know the botanical and common names of all my specimens—perhaps Maybe I have a need to show off—or maybe by knowing the genus and species, I will know when to expect blooms and how to care for it. Different cacti, depending on their origin, have different care needs. Many maybes here!

Maybe I should actually call the Lobivia grandiflora Echinopsis grandiflora. Echinopsis, Lobivia, Soehrensia, and Trichocereus had always been classified separately, but now they are all grouped into the Echinopsis genus. However, many collectors still like to refer to the old genus. The genus, Echinopsis, is native to South America.

I think all this confusion points out to the need for accurate labeling. I label all my potted cacti, succulents, and even some of the specimens in the garden—no exceptions. (The cactus discussed above lost its label last year in a windstorm and look at the confusion!) By labeling, I know when I acquired the cactus, what genus and species it is, and how to care for it based on a code developed by the Tucson Cactus and Succulent Society. I put the code right on the label with the rest of the information, and then group the specimens by code. It works well, satisfies my anal-retentive tendencies, and makes for good horticultural practice.

Regardless of what genus and species this specimen falls under, the flowers are gorgeous!

Gardening In The Dark

Now that we are having triple digit temperatures, I'm back to doing my gardening in the dark. It seems most gardeners in the desert prefer early morning for garden chores, but not me. I don't like getting up at dawn for any reason, even for my cacti, which get about as much attention as others lavish on their pets.

Evening watering seems to agree with my potted cacti and succulents as much as it does with me. There's less evaporation, no heat stress, and the superheated pots have had time to cool a bit before adding water. Landscape cacti do not need any supplemental water yet, but the potted specimens are averaging twice a week now with the high temperatures and low humidity.

Cacti and succulents do all their work at night anyway. Because they are Crassulacean Acid Metabolism (CAM) plants, they wait until nightfall to open their stomata to allow for gas and water vapor exchange. Other plants do just the opposite, opening their stomata during the day. I just barely understand the complicated process. I do know that CAM is the reason cacti and succulents are slow growers and are adapted to extreme heat and drought. Makes me wish I had a CAM process!

I'm not positive of the science involved, but my potted cacti seem to thrive and grow, even in the hottest part of summer, just when they are expected to stop. I'm convinced it's because I water them at night. Actually, the only science involved here is psychology. It's my subconscious justification for sleeping late.

Of Elephants and Bonsai

My landscape Elephant’s Food (Portulacaria afra) succumbed to the hard freeze we suffered this past January, or so I thought. When it appeared dead, I was sorry to see it go, as I think it is an especially attractive plant with its light green, succulent leaves and red stems. In March, new shoots came up from the base, and it has grown to the size shown in the photo in three short months. This plant, a native of South Africa, is ideal for Arizona’s low desert climate as it is extremely drought tolerant and can take full sun. It also does equally well—at least in the ground—when well watered.

To give you an idea of the drought hardiness of this plant, my sister just rescued a sad, bedraggled potted specimen from her neighbor’s yard when her neighbor mentioned that she had not watered it in over eight months hoping it would die. My sis said she would take it off her hands, mostly out of pity for the poor thing. A couple of good waterings will revive it in no time.

Elephant’s food rarely flowers, but mine, planted in 2005, flowered in 2006, and had many insignificant pink flowers on the branches. That was the first time I’ve ever seen Portulacaria flowers, and I’ve had potted specimens for years.

Many folks like to grow these indoors and it will do well with sufficient light, but tends to drop leaves when the light level is low. Elephant’s Food is a popular plant for use in bonsai. It lives up to 50 years, is easy to manipulate into various bonsai styles, and grows fast. Sometimes it is called Dwarf Jade, a misnomer. It is part of the Crassula family, but it is not a Jade Plant (Crassula ovata) as some believe.

African Elephants really do eat this plant, and it is a regular part of their vegetarian diet. Goats and tortoises also like to munch on it, but elephants are bigger, so they got first dibs on the name.

Goodwill Hunting

Thrift stores are a great place to look for containers for cacti and other potted plants. Every container in this photo came from either our local Salvation Army or Goodwill store. All you need is an electric drill with a carbide bit, because around here, for some reason, the good pots I find are without drain holes. I think that occurs because I'm not the only one looking for pots with holes so the price setters know that “holey” pots sell faster than the “unholey” pots. My husband drills the holes, and has never broken a pot. Saving a few bucks on pots is a good idea when one collects specimen cacti as I do. I now have over 100 varieties in containers that range in size from a large five-gallon pot down to the tiny one shown in the photo, and every one was a thrift store bargain.

The standard clay pots at Goodwill are vastly overpriced--for instance, Goodwill has clay pots for $7.99--and you can find the same thing at Wal-Mart for 69 cents. Goodwill is funny that way--they do not have a good handle on realistic pricing. I have purchased some great pots by a locally renowned potter for 99 cents each. The same pots would set me back $95 each at a specialty store. Pots with drain holes are usually overpriced, even the ceramic art projects done someone's third grade grandkid. The people that price just seem mark items without knowledge aforethought.

Some folks cannot bear the thought of entering, let alone browsing around in a thrift store, but if you are looking for some cheap, interesting plant containers, thrift stores may have just what you need. However, you may want to avoid the restrooms and the coffee bar. Regardless of their advertising to the contrary, these stores, at least in this part of the country, are not yet the “alternative retailer of the middle class” that they claim to be.

Guilt By Association

A recent visitor commented that she could not believe I would choose Purple Fountain Grass (Pennisetum setaceum ‘Rubrum’) as an accent plant in my garden. She had read in the newspaper that fountain grass was one of the causes of the intense wildfires that have plagued Arizona in recent years. She said the grass was a noxious weed and had gone so far as to destroy the few she had in her garden and had convinced her neighbors to do the same. She was well intentioned, but I assured her that Purple Fountain Grass is NOT a noxious weed, and that regular Fountain Grass (Pennisetum setaceum) is the culprit that is causing problems. The key difference is Purple Fountain Grass does not reseed, and regular Fountain Grass does, vigorously!

Purple Fountain Grass is suited to our climate and looks lovely as it shimmers and sways in the breeze. The burgundy color adds drama and contrast to desert landscapes and looks especially nice when combined with the grays of Agave, Bush Morning Glory, and Dusty Miller. Considered a perennial in our USDA Zone 9, it looks better if sheared back to about 12 inches in late winter. We accomplish the shearing by tightly tying a string around the plant and then cutting it under the string to the proper height. The bundled remains can then be easily disposed of without extra work. After shearing, it begins to grow new foliage immediately, and will have new plumes within a month or so of shearing.

Regular Fountain Grass looks different from the ‘Rubrum’. The grass is pale green and the plumes white. Introduced years ago as a landscape plant, Fountain Grass became very popular, which lead to the problem we have with it now. The plant is highly aggressive, readily reseeds, and quickly overruns native plants. The seeds are widely disbursed by wind, water, animals, and even vehicles. The seeds can live for up to six years and then sprout, making it an ongoing threat. Areas overrun with Fountain Grass are susceptible to intense wild fires, which easily kill off native vegetation. Arizona homeowners are regularly urged to destroy Fountain Grass, being careful not to disburse even more seeds in the process.

My visitor had the right idea, just the wrong plant. I wonder what her neighbors would say if they knew!