Winter Walk 2016

 A Tidewater Gardener's annual winter walkabout post details some of the history of his area.  An impressive history it is, with architecturally marvelous old homes and churches, a huge oak dedicated to the memory of those lost "in the world war", and more (water!).  What a gorgeous place to live!

My own neighborhood's history is far more brief and insignificant, as histories go.  Most of the "history" such as it is, is simply recent memories.  At any rate, highlights from a walk to the nearby park and back, on yet another brilliantly sunny, 75F winter day, weather we are all thoroughly sick of.  At least its not 90F.  

Over this past weekend, this homeowner moved a sizable volunteer oak from his gully and replanted it by his driveway.  I wonder how much root system he got and if the oak will survive.  An acorn is easier, and not all that slow.  Nice support job, though.

The new growth on it has died.  You can see it drooped.  Yes, that's our typical winter sky.

 Beautiful chickens!  Cool!  A couple of years ago they had beautiful turkeys.  We could hear gobbling all day long.  That was fun. 

 
Next neighbor has a show-off Bougainvillea that was cut completely to the ground maybe three years ago.  It receives no irrigation.  The generally accepted fact is that once a Bougainvillea is established, it's nearly impossible to get rid of--chemical intervention required.  A freeze?  Only if the ground freezes, too.  It will come back from the roots otherwise.  The searing intensity of the color doesn't come across in the photo.

Trash-Ash in trash-Palm.  I pull dozens of seedlings of one, and hundreds of the other, every spring and summer.  

 
Another Bougie.

Birch trees leafing out.  People around here love them, but they only live a few years after planting.  Ten is old.  Not enough water.

 

This Euc was planted circa 1970.  It was in a one gallon pot and cost a dollar.  

We call this property the House Of Palms.  It sat vacant for over twenty years until a guy who grows palm trees fixed it up to sell.  I don't think he made much profit--too many expensive problems needed fixing.  A very nice family bought it.  Judging solely by the repair and contractor's trucks often there, they've had expensive problems with it, too. 

This Opuntia came from a pad picked up behind a motel in San Luis Obispo more than twenty years ago.  The Opuntia owner told me that.  Trucks driving by keep it trimmed. 

Another Bougie.

Dying Avocado tree.  Of thirst.  Before it began to die, a woman from up the hill used to come every year and steal avocados from it. 

The survivor of three pines; two died last year.  

 Another Bougie.  This is bad for the roof.

Dying Sequoias.  Most of the Sequoias in the neighborhood have died from the drought.  A few hang on, but this year's pitiful rain amounts probably won't save them. 

Dead Sequoias supporting, yes, Bougies. 

This Euc has been declining for several years.  When we first moved here in '99 it was thriving.  The park people have been pruning it smaller and smaller for a while.  Its companion across the park walkway died a couple of years ago. 

More...you know.  Why are they all red? 

 Invasive reseeding "California" pepper trees.  They are from Argentina, folks.  I pull a lot of these seedlings, too.

View from the park.  Nice view.

I remember when this Euc fell over about six years ago.  They left the stump.  

More dying Sequoias

Dead Sequoia stump.  They cut it down a month or two ago.

More view.

This Bougie isn't red!  It begins orange and ages to pink.  

Red again

 Dead Dononea.  Dodonea are a good temporary small tree or airy medium shrub.  They are short lived--no need to live long when you produce hundreds of seedlings every year.  This was young and thriving in '99.  It didn't die from the drought; it died of old age.  The tree trimmers neatly removed a branch from it and left the rest.  Huh?

This trio of ornamental (non-fruiting) Loquat has looked this good, and looked the same, since '99.  The owners have it skillfully pruned nearly every year.  Good small tree for this area. 

Dead Eucalyptus.  Someone just spent a fortune redoing the landscape at this property--there was a semi-truck filled with plants unloading one day when we drove by.  Literally hundreds of Ligustrum shrubs and the like;  48" boxed olive trees, and so forth.
They should have taken the dead Euc out first.

A mix of Agaves with--Azaleas?  Azaleas and their small, delicate root systems that need regular moisture under trees dying of drought.  Brilliant.  If you look through the gate, you can see potted Ligustrums--they had leftovers.  Semi tractor trailers hold a lot of plants.  More dying Sequoias, too.  There's a healthy pine mixed in with them that makes them look green.

At night, teenagers come and drink beer and swing off these ropes in the park until the ropes break.  We clean up beer bottles and "medical" marijuana "prescription" bottles all the time.  Apparently "medical" marijuana "prescriptions" instruct "patients" to take their "medicine" late at night in parks with their friends while drinking beer and swinging on ropes.  

The view on the way back home.  Those homes crammed together there were not there when we moved here.  

Another one of those red Bougies.  This one was cut to the ground two or three years ago.  It is regularly trimmed so the stop sign is visible.  The stop sign will again be engulfed by September or October, I think.

These neighbors had this pergola built last year.   

Wouldn't it be fabulous to have coffee at sunrise here on a summer morning? Yes it would.

Here's the neighborhood wild beehive.  

 It's been there for decades.  There's a clay irrigation pipe in the slope left over from the 1920's, when this area was all commercial lemon groves.  The bees who live in the pipe pollinate our fruit trees.  It's why my garden is filled with bees.  The bees vanished suddenly last year.  We were heartbroken.  Then just as suddenly they were back.  No one knows why.  We just know we are lucky.

History is a funny thing.  So much is recorded that hardly matters; so much that matters is lost.  

It's not a spectacular Tidewater neighborhood, but by golly, we got dead trees and red Bougainvilleas!