Cultivars include the usual suspects: 'Yves Piaget', 'Firefighter', 'Red Intuition', 'Perdita', 'Belindas Dream'.
My love of bright garden color always inspires a meditation on DNA and evolution. Our distant ancestors evolved to seek out the bright colors of fruit--bright color meant food. The keenest seekers of color got the most and best food. Many millions of years later, some gardeners (me) dote on color, while other gardeners prefer an array of greens. Are green-preferring gardeners passionate meat eaters, indifferent to bright color? Did DNA make some humans hunters, others gatherers?
While Echeveria coccinea is a fuzzy green, its flowers are bright red--must have been why I bought it, even though it wasn't in flower when I did. The fuzzy coating enables it to take considerable sun, where it can form a large (for an Echeveria) shrubby mound.
'Mini King' Protea flower has finally opened. It does have fruity red bracts.
The first 'Pink Ice' flower never opened its bracts, remaining cylindrical. I have to admit I'm slightly disappointed. It doesn't ring the bell.
I think the heat is getting to me.
How did DNA evolve into the DNA that loves plants for their own sake? Some of us have that DNA, surely. The DNA that created agriculture ten or twelve thousand years ago. We plant lovers were the cool people of ten thousand years ago, the Steve Jobs and Bill Gates of ten thousand years ago, making a stable food supply possible, all so we could stay in one place, well fed, and evolve into plant nuts, while the cool factor moved on to human different traits.
Several more 'Pink Ice' flowers are on the way, for me to be disappointed about. Perhaps I'll learn to appreciate them eventually.
Near 'Mini King', Yucca 'Bright Star's creamy bubbling bells have opened. Pretty, if not fruit-colored.
No colorful flowers, or flowers of any color from Dichondra argentea 'Silver Falls', which appeared in a space between stepping stones this spring. Unhappy where I first planted it, cascading from a blue pot, dressing a blue Agave. Sounds spectacular, but it constantly drooped with thirst. I put the Dichondra out of its misery when I put the Agave into the ground, but 'Silver Falls' reappeared on its own exactly where it wanted to be, and has been happy, happy. No frying. Some plants pick their own spots, and get it right.
I had not intended to make the Dichondra miserable but did purposely place an Orchid where it would die. It refused to. I didn't know what would keep it happy, so I willed it to Nature to do with it as she wished.
The orchid bet on me becoming a more competent gardener, and was willing to wait. It survived several years, during our drought, on 4 or 5 inches of rain for the year. Eventually it shamed me into providing a better spot--damp--where it's re-greened and grown. No fruity-bright flowers. Yet. It's there, damp, snuggled among the Anemone leaves, vindicated.
This Hunnemannia refuses to die also. I wonder what it is using for water. It doesn't need me. but I need that brilliant chrome yellow in the flowers--my brain sings when I see that yellow.