A Visit From Planta Claus!

Imagine someone dropping by to give you a bunch of beautiful plants!  

 The treasures include 'Mr. Ripple' and 'Jaws' Agaves, a Teucrium, x Graptoveria 'Opalina' (??)  Echeveria 'Opal Moon', and four Ballotas, which will join what I started calling The Dry Area.  The Dry Area began as a steeply sloped lawn of St. Augustine grass and a row of Prunus caroliniana.  The lawn and Prunus were removed and the slope somewhat flattened back in 2006, and it became a pathway through roses and daylilys, but the area was always too dry to make a satisfactory place for roses.  Last year I moved or removed almost all the roses and daylilys, leaving the area mostly fallow, except for a few Salvias, a Woolly Blue Curls...

 Leucadendron 'Ebony', 'Improved Meyer' Lemon, and a couple of Aloes.  
Leucadendron 'Pisa':

 The reseeding Nasturtiums, handy winter cheer for Southern California.  They will be toasty dead in a few weeks, but effortless  temporary beauty for now. 

 Leucadendron 'Little Bit', also quite cheerful:

 This winter, I added more Aloes and Aeoniums, more Leucadendrons, and now soon, the Teucrium and Ballotas. The Dry Area is already getting crowded.  

Thanks, kind and generous Planta Claus, aka A Growing Obsession.  

A couple of days of nasty heat, so gardening is again on hold.  I rescued a big bunch of roses for a vase, because they'd fry outside.
Can grow um.  Can't arrange um.  

 Plus a Freesia cluster, and a single Sweet Pea stem:

I was stuck in the house, sniffing rose/freesia/sweet pea perfume and meditating upon a garden forum post that went something like:  

I will plant a rose at the base of  a big mature tree that casts dark, dense shade.  The climate is arid high desert.  The soil is a mix of rocks and tree roots, and the rose will get no irrigation.  When will a rose in that situation become spectacular?

One's immediate gut response is:  "Never!"  or less kindly, "When h-ll freezes over."  Plants should be respected, I thought.  Why bother planting them if you are going to give them the exact conditions they need to fail?

 I did remember, though, a rose abandoned out back to deep shade and drought.  It had a terribly awkward growing habit,  I got it for nothing, and at the time I stuck it in a terrible location, there was no other place to put it.  
Less than ideal placement:

 Feeling acutely disrespectful and ungenerous, I braved the heat to cut back and move that poor rose, which had managed to bloom a little, despite terrible treatment.  It also got a deep soaking and a shade cloth cover, to protect it from the heat. 

Generosity of spirit breeds more of itself.  A pebble dropped into a pond causes ripples that radiate outwards.   

This month I managed to fulfill a promise to the Dahlias--I promised them real support this year, before they begin flopping everywhere, and at least made an effort.  How violet tomato cages will work as Dahlia supports--we'll see:

I also promised the tomato plants I'd protect them from rats and tie them properly--we'll see:
Formal rat-free zone:

  Planta--uh--Santa Claus is generosity symbolized as a pointy-eared guy in a red suit.

It can come in the form of a box of plants, too, or as a kind smile, or simply patience at a stop sign or in line at the grocery store.   
Are plants generous with their flowers?  

I'll be generous enough to chase this ball when you throw it.  You're welcome!