Mulch Madness

Mulch Madness is done for the year.  No more aching everything, and no more lame puns on the word "mulch".  After mulching this area:

and..

and...

and...

and...(gotta do something about that lawn)

and...(the fall project is getting there, might be done by spring)

and...(this slope was a killer.  I had to climb up and down an extension ladder all day)

and..(here I finally made those stones level instead of sloping while I was at it.  Much better)

and...(I need to put that tower back straight this time)

and...(pots all over, what a mess)

and...

and...the phoebe was back on his block again...

and...(stairs to go up and down)

and...

and...(I finished up 'Abraham Darby'.  I always leave Abe for last)

and...it was getting dark.  I noticed many little things I would have missed if not for going through every square inch of the garden mulching-tossing. Like finding the tip of a hydrangea branch (lower arrow) had rooted, forming a baby plant with two strong new stems (upper arrow)...


And discovering that the single seed I got last year from Aloe gariepensis has germinated and formed a tiny plant:



I remember well standing on the slope looking at the seed last year, wondering if I should just toss the seed in the compost and not make the effort to keep a tiny pot moist long enough to germinate a seed and then grow a tiny plant.  I just didn't have time to nurture a seed.  Seemed a shame not to give it a chance, though.  So I stuck the seed under a Calocephalus on the slope, where it would be a little moist and a little protected, and when I mulched this year and lifted the edge of the Calocephalus, there was a tiny Aloe plant!  


This slope wasn't too hard.  I stood at the top and threw mulch down.  Digging out the rest of the sprouting Baccharis stems was the hard part:



Today, the last day, I started in the morning when the leaves were dewy.




Not much mulch left, but raking and trimming and sweeping took time, and I was slow because I've been doing this almost all day almost every day since last Wednesday...


Of course I had to stop and get a picture of Aloe marlothii...



and finally, finally as the sun went down at around 5:30 in the afternoon,  I was done.  

Mulch Madness 2012 is complete.  I could use about two more yards--I didn't cover every spot.  But not this year.  Enough with Mulch Madness.  A hot bath awaits.

Almulch Done

I'm nearly done mulching, so while I was finishing up the mulch on the front slope, I planted an Aloe 'Hercules' while I was there.  'Hercules' is a cross between Aloe dichotoma and Aloe barberae, and is faster growing and cold-hardier than both parents.  This hybrid occurs in nature as the two parent species sometimes share the same area.  


I thought pretty hard about putting this Aloe in that spot.  'Hercules' can get 30 feet (9 meters) tall,  so it needs to be placed as carefully as a tree, because it is a tree.  It got very stressed in the 12" pot it was in, giving the foliage that lovely tangerine color.  I am already beginning to think I need to move it.  It won't be in the way, but it may look odd there eventually.  This Aloe, once in the ground gets big fast, so I won't be able to move it for long. 

If it falls, it shouldn't take out a car or pedestrian.  Only another Aloe (or two or three)  

I've only got about two more yards of mulch to spread.  Also maybe an Aloe to move.  I think I'll be done tomorrow.  Ouch!  Ow!  Whee! 

Scenes From Nearby

A palm shaded courtyard 






Beautiful Furcraea, but planted a wee bit deep in that fabulous pot, maybe?









May your day contain serenity. 

Mulch Better!

 The pile is smaller


Being a typical gardener, I went out many hours after dark in my pajamas to take a picture of a pile of composted wood shreddings.  I hate flash photography, but only because my flash pictures usually look terrible (example above).   Before hastening back indoors, I tried a flash shot of the bare Cercis branches. Interesting, sort of.  It looks more January-like than our January has looked so far. 



I'm up late because everything hurts.  My back hurts, shoulders, knees, neck, toes, wrists.  Ow, ow, owwwww.  The hot bath helped, but not enough.  But the garden looks better and better.  I mulched like mad all weekend, gusty arid winds or not, stopping only to note that Aloe 'Fire Ranch' and Aloe greatheadii have the start of blooms.  


I Didn't notice this bloom emerging on Friday.  Love love love the red teeth on Aloe 'Fire Ranch':


Aloe greatheadii. This year's bloom looks more substantial.  Last year's flopped over, and I had to stake it so no one would step on it. 

Does it hurt to bloom, O Aloe?  Or feel euphoric?
Do the bees crawling through your anthers
tickle?
Does soil have flavor--bitter, salty, sweet?  
Does water sate?
Does the sun burn you as it does me or 
do you shiver when it is night?
I should love to ask you, Aloe.
I should love to hear your voice, undoubtedly coloratura.



On Saturday night we watched "Bill Cunningham New York", which is a documentary about a man who has spent decades taking snapshots of people wearing interesting clothes in New York City.  He rides a bicycle everywhere (in New York City! at age 80!), doesn't care about food, money, or clothes (his own clothes, that is) and lives in a tiny space filled with filing cabinets filled with a detailed history of the fashion of the last thirty or so years.  "He who seeks beauty will find it," was something he said.  I thought long and hard about what he said regarding getting out there, being out there on the street looking and looking at what people wear:  “I let the street speak to me. There are no shortcuts…. It isn’t what I think, it’s what I see.”  You don't decide short skirts are a trend and then go out and take pictures only of short skirts.  You go out with no ideas at all, with a silent mind, and look. 

That's just as true of a garden as it is of fashion in New York City.  You look and look and look for hours and days, weeks, years, shutting your mind off, until the garden speaks.  Then you have to make sure you are listening. 

Too Mulch! (Wind)

Wind making the Yucca vibrate:

 
Not only did I still have a big pile of mulch to spread, but the wind started to roar, whoosh, and howl.  Eyes full of mulch dust.  Lovely.  I did what I could.  The priority for the day was getting the pile pushed to one side so Beloved could get his car into the garage.  Beloved wants his car parked in the garage, not on the street.  He was willing to tolerate it on the street for two nights, but yesterday, time was up.  I did get that accomplished.

Just before sunset the wind abated a bit, and I wandered the garden.  There was a cluster of tiny birds with black and white striped heads peeping in the neighbor's hedge.  Another bird in the Avocado tree was shrieking.   Ah.  A cat was stalking the shrieking bird--a very beautiful cat, golden and golden-eyed, marbled and swirled with dark stripes.  A designer cat.  I guessed the bird was possibly nesting.  Stop and chase off cat.  Bird shrieks ceased.  


Aloe 'Fire Ranch' catching the last of the day's sun.  I like the contrast of the thick meaty leaves with the delicacy of the Calothamnus behind it. 


Well how about this:  an Epiphyllum leaf that actually looks good.  Epiphyllums are a lot like Orchids:  out of bloom, they are not much to look at.  I think that's why I don't have many of them.



Aloe ferox is finished blooming and the bloom stalks are now bare, but still sculptural



Aloe marlothii is just about to start opening, and is looking ever more spectacular.

At that point the bird in the Avocado tree started shrieking again.  The cat was back.  I chased it off again.  The shrieking stopped.  


Now the ldayight was really fading.  'Blue Glow' stopped glowing.



'Joe Hoak' looked more yellow and less white.  Both were of course unfazed by the wind, which was starting to pick up again.



Before escaping back inside, I paused again at the Moroccan Daisy,  Pyrethropsis hosmariense, which I've been taking picture after picture of lately.  Why is it so beautiful?  The silver foliage?  The icy white and brilliant chrome yellow of the flowers?



Something else...its...the buds!  The black-edged, silver buds!

 I forgot all about the mulch pile at that point.  And the howling wind.  

And Mulch, Mulch, More!

Does the pile look any smaller?


It wouldn't take so long to mulch the garden if I did not stop and do other things along the way.  I pulled out this somewhat large rose, 'Climbing Shot Silk'.  I might have a spot for it in the back, then again, I might not.  I don't know yet.  The shovel gives you an idea of how big it was.  I had cut it back by about two thirds in preparation for the move (or remove). 


Then I dug out the little Clematis that had gotten overwhelmed behind the rose.



And gave up on the limbed-up Camellia sasanqua that didn't survive a transplant.  It was fine for several weeks after the move, but then we  got two 90F (32 C) days in a row which killed it off.  It might have come back, maybe...but I decided it was hopeless.



Now I had an empty spot...



...for the new 'Cara Cara' Orange tree.  It is on true dwarf rootstock and should stay under 10 feet (3 meters) tall.



I planted the orange tree, then I put the Clematis in a better spot where it would get more sun, and finally I could go back to mulching.  The only beauty shot of the day was this beautiful new basal break on 'Black Bacarra'.  Well, if you are a rose grower, it's a beauty shot.  A normal person probably wouldn't even notice, or just wonder why it wasn't green.  



Does the pile look any smaller?  

Didn't think so.