The Bulb Maven

The Morning Walkabout

I usually post on the Walkabout of things that are blooming in the greenhouse or the garden, and sometimes sightings of special things like the time I saw two bald eagles fall out of the sky locked together in play or combat. Two days ago, however, my walkabout was somewhere else in the Sierra foothills, where I had gone on a very quick trip to gather some seed.

I used to live in that area, and I know it well. It is an area very rich in bulbs, so I can estimate the best time to go back to collect some seed, and I usually get it right. Every year is a bit different, but when we were in the area a month ago for our wildflower hiking and camping trip, I checked out several areas and found abundant bloom. This was actually unusual for this year, for it hasn't been a good year for flowers or seed production, but in two of the areas I visited, there had been massive clearing of brush along the roads, apparently for fire prevention, and in those areas the bloom was impressive, often in places where there had been little evidence of any bulbs existing at all. It has been postulated that after wildfires, which are frequent in this area, the blooming of bulbs is stimulated by the smoke produced by the fire, since smoke can stimulate seed germination and, possibly, flower production in bulbs. Other theories attribute the blooming to the release of nutrients through the ash produced. Well, in these areas there was no ash and no smoke, so it seems that it might just be the removal of competing vegetation or the exposure to more sunlight and warmth.

Most of my seed collecting takes place along the roads where the seed will fall in the ditches or on the road itself, so I certainly don't feel guilty about gathering the few pods I need. Our first stop was to collect some seeds of the beautiful pink flowered form of Calochortus tolmiei pcitured here. The seed pods are pendulous, and if the weather warms up suddenly they will open and drop the seeds all at once, so these seeds are not easy to time right. This time it worked well. Our next stop was at higher elevation for seeds of Calochortus monophyllus, where colonies stretch for miles along both sides of the road. The plants are so small that the seed pods can even bury themsleves in the duff, so they are very hard to see.

Our last stop was along a beautiful road that travels along a huge pool where water from the spillway of the Oroville dam falls. Here there are colonies of Calochortus albus growing on steep cliffs. It was very early morning, and the sun was rising, bathing the whole area in a golden glow and reflecting off the pool, with resident flocks of Canada geese flying low across the water. Acorn woodpeckers were chattering, mockingbirds singing, and many other birds in chorus. It felt like heaven.

I had to return home that day, a long seven hour drive, with one quick stop along the way to check out an area where Fritillaria purdyi grows, and was happy to find a couple in bloom, although most are in bud at this time.

We drove down our driveway at 6pm, right when the solar eclipse was at its maximum. I wanted so much to see it, but rushing around, getting the dogs squared away and my things out of the car, I pretty much gave up. Then I came down the stairs of the barn, and there dancing on the floor of the barn were dozens of 'rings of fire', the perfect image of the eclipse projected on the floor of the barn from the sunlight filtering through the leaves of the trees outside. I was thrilled.

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The Morning Walkabout

This winter we have had little rain, and along with clear skies at night, have had frost dusting the landscape each morning. Being so near to the ocean, frost is not a frequent occurrence here, and our temperatures still are mild with no damage to the plants. It has been a pleasure in the morning to walk around the property to see what we can see. There is much to see, even though we have just entered the month of March. I planted Hellebores in the garden about five or six years ago, and they have seeded everywhere, the seedlings now producing flowers of their own. In this damp climate it seems that every seed that hits the ground germinates, both a blessing and a curse, since weeding is a never ending chore. On the other hand, I have a large garden, and can dig up volunteer plants and put them elsewhere, otherwise I would be spending a large fortune at the local plant center.

I haven't planted many bulbs in the garden since gophers are a terrible problem here, plus the property floods in normal winters, and they would either get eaten or rot. My neighbors gave me some daffodil bulbs last year, though, safe to plant here since they are toxic and are not eaten by anything, and this year I have two wonderful swathes of their cheerful yellow flowers.

There is so much to see in the greenhouses it is hard to keep track of it all. The Oxalis are starting to fade a little. Around March, many will start to die off, and now I get impatient for it to be over so that I can remove the ratty foliage. We aren't quite there yet, so I can still enjoy the Oxalis obtusa for a couple more weeks. The South African gladioli are blooming, as are the Lachenalias. I have had some seeding into adjacent pots, giving me pots that are mixed species, so yesterday I had to get ruthless and just throw some pots away. It is hard to do, but things do not get better, and I don't want to be sending someone the wrong bulbs. The last two years I have cut all the flowers off the Lachenalias, but now I realize if I do this I don't know if there is a problem in a pot, so I must let the buds open before I remove the flowering stem.

This time of year I often have a project done on the house. When you own a house that is more than 100 years old, the work is never ending. You have to be the kind of person who actually enjoys the renovations. Recently I had the master bedroom completely remodeled. It was ugly, with two very large closets that took up a great deal of floor space and blocked a window, plus the ceiling was sagging, so it was gutted and redone. The work crew, seen here taking a break, is a pleasure to have around, and the results were fantastic. I rent my house out to vacationers in the summer, so although I never use this bedroom, I hope the guests will enjoy it.

The birds are getting restless. There is a little white crowned sparrow singing outside the window. Spring is here.

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The Morning Walkabout

It has been a very mild, and very dry, winter here in northern California, with one sunny day after another.  While this may be a pleasure here in this damp, soggy valley, it may be a problem for the rest of the state.  We were over to an agility trial last weekend near Sacramento, and the hills of the Coast Range are brown from the dry grasses of last year, looking more like the middle of summer than February.  Usually by this time the hills are green and a few early wildflowers are just starting to bloom, so this will be a poor year for flowers.  Agriculture in California mostly depends on irrigation, and with the reservoirs still very full from the previous heavy winter, if this is an abnormally dry winter, we can usually get by.  We have, though, had long spells of drought.  I remember one seven year cycle with the reservoir where I lived (one of the largest in California), reduced to a mere mud puddle.

The mild temperatures and lower humidity have been very beneficial for the bulbs, however.  Fungal disease is the most serious problem for a bulb grower, and in these conditions, it is minimal.  Oxalis have done wonderfully well this season, and it is a delight to enter the greenhouse and see a lush carpet of color from their lovely blooms.  I stroll down the aisles looking carefully in each pot, to see if anything new has popped up.  I get some seeding from my Oxalis obtusa species, and I examine the pots carefully to see if a new color has emerged.  Then I must extract the one bulb from the pot and pot it up.  This is not as easy as it sounds.  When I discovered Oxalis obtusa 'Elizabeth' in a pot of differently colored Oxalis, I had to take a small clump out.  Then I had a pot of mixed colors, and it took four years to make sure I had a pot of pure 'Elizabeth' before I could offer it.  I managed to get one bulb of a lovely new one which I think I will call 'Sundisc'.  Here it is above.

Many other lovely species are blooming now.  I have several color forms of Veltheimia bracteata, one a beautiful cream flushed lightly with pink.  I have seedlings coming along, but I have to be sure they come true from seed before I can offer them. 

I am very fond of Cyrtanthus, and a new one (for me) is in bloom now, Cyrtanthus mackenii v. cooperi.  Here it is to the right.

 

There are very few double flowered Oxalis.  I have only three in my collection, and would love to have more.  Here is Oxalis compressa 'Pom-Pom', with perfectly round yellow pom-poms.

 

 

 

Also in bloom is Canarina canariensis.  This is not a bulb, but grows from a knobby tuber, and has lovely flowers like lampshades.  It has a rather lax habit, and would probably do well in a hanging basket.

While this may be a dreary time of year for many, this is a blessed time of year in the nursery, with shoots emerging everywhere, and many bulbs in full bloom.  Shipping orders has started, but the pressure of the summer shipping season is still far away.  I have time to attend the dog trials and work on projects in the garden, activities that must be put on hold in the summer.  I still look forward to summer, though, for each season has its rewards, and the lovely long evenings when I can take the dogs to the beach, weed the garden, or train my dogs are evenings I treasure.

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The Morning Walkabout

I live on a country lane with four other houses and one street lamp.  The street lamp is right in front of my house, and I have often been told how 'lucky' I am to have it there.  I am not sure why this is lucky.  I am well aware where my front door is, and when I go out before dawn to retrieve my morning paper, it is casting a nauseous orange glow over my front garden, and I am therefore never able to enjoy my garden by moonlight.  I enjoy the darkness of night and the sparkle of the night sky. Moonlight is almost magical, but maybe in these modern times when folks are focused on their iPods and televisions, the romantic lure of a moonlit night has lost its charm. 

This morning there was a thin sickle moon and the stars were magnificent in the velvety black sky.  I noticed years ago when I lived in a very dry climate that the stars had a sparkle in the evening sky, but in the time before dawn they had a steady glow.  I have looked this up, and the sparkle is, apparently, from air turbulence, so there must be less of that in the cool of the morning. 

We have recently returned from a trip to the Sierras.  A very short trip, but we were able to get to a favorite lake to enjoy the autumn colors, the aspens seeming to radiate back the sunshine they had absorbed all summer long.  Of course, I forgot my camera, but here is a picture from a previous trip, although not in autumn.

This summer I had a new patio built.  My property is very windy, and not very warm, so I had the patio put in a rather awkward area that was never used for anything, and backed by a fence to block the wind.  It has been a great success, and I have taken to eating most of my meals outdoors now.  The whole family approves.

 

 

Work continues shipping bulbs, although it will start to taper off now.  This is welcome (and necessary) since many bulbs are starting to sprout in their storage trays and need to be replanted.  We have replanted all the Oxalis, and a few are even blooming now.  Here is the lovely Oxalis hirta v. longituba.

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The Morning Walkabout

We are now in the busiest part of our shipping season, for although I ship bulbs year-round, this is the time of year when the dormant bulbs are shipped; Gladiolus, Oxalis, Lachenalia, Calochortus, Brodiaea and many others.  My two young helpers have been taking the bulbs out of the pots, and most have been done, but the California natives are still ripening seed and will not be ready to remove from their pots for another couple of weeks. 

The pace has definitely picked up, but I still enjoy my morning walk around the garden and the greenhouses.  My single mature bulb of Boophone haemanthoides has fully opened, and now is in decline, and I anxiously inspect my other Amaryllid bulbs that are ten years old or older for emerging buds, but, so far, no luck.

Our day always ends with a training session with my dogs.  I have a small field set up with all the necessary agility equipment.  We went out to train yesterday evening around 6pm, and the dogs became very agitated, running up and down one of the fence lines.  The next door field is a mess, weeds and grass that are chin high and a big pile of broken concrete awaiting disposal, so it has not been used for the horses for quite a while. I saw the ears of a doe out in the weeds, and she was acting strangely.  She just kept staring at us instead of running away from the dogs, and she was only about fifteen feet away.  I thought she might have a fawn hidden in the grasses, so I got the dogs and put them in the front garden, and went back, and looking over the fence saw the tiniest fawns I have ever seen lying in an area that was almost scraped bare of grass. My dogs weigh about 18lbs each, and these little fawns were about half their size. They weren't there the day before when we trained, so I knew they were less than a day old.  The dogs got free, and came racing around the greenhouses, and chased the mother, so there were some tense moments until I caught them.  They are well trained, and even came to me when I called, although they certainly didn't want to leave off something as exciting as chasing a deer.  I locked them in the house and went back with my camera to get a picture or two.  The mother came back, and I watched from an upstairs window with my binoculars.  The fawns could hardly stand and kept falling over, and were so tiny they could barely reach to nurse, bumping into each other an knocking each other down.  Now, I have complained bitterly about deer, since they have caused severe damage to the garden, but I was totally won over by these beautiful little babies.  A storm moved in last night, and I worried all night about them out in the cold rain, but I suppose they know how to deal with such adversity.  I hope by now the mother has moved them to a safer place, and my dogs today seem quite uninterested in that area.

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The Morning Walkabout

Each morning my day begins with a walk around the garden.  As soon as there is enough light, I take a plastic bag and pick slugs and snails, having found this as effective as using snail bait.  I do use some bait, but I get a rather sinister delight in my daily bag.  I know I should feel pleased when I don't find many, but somehow I am more thrilled when I get a good bag full. 

I have few bulbs in the garden, since gophers are a terrible problem here, plus my land floods in winter, so they either get eaten or rot.  I do have some clumps of Dierama, the lovely South African hairbell, though.  They are mostly hybrids bought from nurseries, since I don't sell Dierama at present.  I used to, but they dislike disturbance and have to be sold in pots, and I don't have enough room at the moment.  Here is the lovely white one.

It is hard to tear myself away from the garden this time of year, but I must, since we are starting to harvest the bulbs, Oxalis being the first on the list, followed by some other South Africans, with the California natives being the last.  Harvesting goes on well into July, and it is a very dusty, dirty and messy job.  I have two young helpers, both pretty as spring flowers themselves, and eager workers.

After the daily slugfest I inspect the greenhouses, and was thrilled to find a bud appearing on my fourteen year old Boophone haemanthoides.  I have waited so long for this!!  I am so excited that I couldn't wait to post a picture of it in bloom, and simply had to show you the bud, with my hand to demonstrate the size.  Fourteen years is a long time, and you certainly need patience to be a bulb grower.  Some Brunsvigias take even longer.  I have Crossyne and Brunsvigia bulbs that are almost as old as this and I am still waiting.

Chlorogalum pomeridianum might not be as exciting as Boophone haemanthoides, but I like this bulb very much, and feel it is vastly underappreciated.  It grows in the foothills of the mountains in California, and opens its starry white flowers in the evening, staying open until dawn.  When I lived in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountains, I would drive home from work at dusk in early summer, and see their beautiful plumes glowing in the half light under the scattered blue oaks.  The landscape at dusk looks like an etching, the golden hills turning to silver with the canopies of the oaks a lacy black, and if there was a moon the six foot tall plumes of Chlorogalum seemed phosphorescent.  The one shown here, C. pomeridianum v. minus, is much shorter at about 24 inches. I have found it difficult to photograph, and have finally got a decent picture, but I will never have a picture like the one in my memory of acres of them glowing in the moonlight.  This is a bulb that is used by Native Americans to make beautiful little brushes, and you can read more of this under Native American Uses of Bulbs.

I am still pollinating the California native bulbs, and it looks good this year for seed.  The later flowering Calochortus are opening their buds now, so here to end this post is a picture of Calochortus gunnisoni.

 

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The Morning Walkabout

There is a sweetness in the air in the morning that is not from any exotic bloom, although the scent could rival any lily or rose, but comes from the sticky resin that coats the buds of some species of poplar.  Our local poplars are called cottonwoods, named for the fluff attached to their seeds that float through the air like a flurry of snowflakes.  The scent is best at dawn, when the air is cool and laden with dew.  Why Mother Nature thought it necessary to endow the buds, and even the fresh young leaves, with such a heavenly scent is a mystery.  For me, along with the arrival of the swallows, it means that spring is really here, regardless of the weather.

The weather has been miserable - cold, wet and windy.  It did not prevent me from taking my yearly pilgrimage to Table Mountain in Butte County.  There are many 'Table Mountains' in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada of California.  They are old lava flows, with the surrounding land eroded over the millennia, leaving flat topped buttes standing high from the surrounding hills.  For a week I hiked the mountain, in spite of rain and wind.  When I lived in the local town of Oroville I hiked the mountain almost daily during the rainy season, and loved it in all its moods.   I have been there in storms, in dense fog when it seems mysterious and magical, and in dazzling sunshine.  It is now a wildflower preserve, made so for the yellow clover (seen here) that is found only on the north Table Mountain, but it is a dense carpet of annuals this time of year, and a smattering of bulbs.    More bulbs will come later and will close the wildflower season on Table Mountain.  Pictures are better than words, so here are a few more.

There are many waterfalls on Table Mountain, for although it appears flat it is cut with many ravines that hold waterfalls hidden from view until you are almost there. Needless to say, it is dog heaven. 

Now we are back to our workaday life, my thoughts keep wandering back to that heavenly place.  In another month the rains will cease and the wildflowers and streams will completely dry up.  But next year, with the autumn rains, the cycle will begin again, and we will be back.

www.telosrarebulbs.com

The Morning Walkabout

 
There have been no beautiful dawn skies for many, many weeks this year.  Our rainy season starts in October and extends through April, but usually we have breaks in the rain when the pools of water on the property subside and the mud dries somewhat.  In January we did have a welcome respite from the rain, but since then we have had daily downpours with the usual flooding.  Our morning walkabouts, therefore, are much curtailed, and mostly confined to quick sloshes around the garden to fill the bird feeders and check to see if the deer fencing is doing its job of keeping out hungry deer. 

It can be a dreary time of year, since outside work comes to a halt, and my daily training sessions with my dogs are a distant dream.  The big task in January and February is updating the web site, and this has been done.  I hope it will be easier for people to read and find things.  Another task is book-keeping and getting all my documents ready to take to my accountant.  This is not a pleasant task, and is made worse by the fact that I have put off getting a good book-keeping program, so I leave everything in a big pile until the beginning of the year when it takes many days of sorting to get everything in order.  Complicating everything was the purchase of a new computer after having irreconcilable differences with my old one.  I still hate the new one, but I suppose I will get used to it.

There have been many pleasures, however, to brighten these dark days.  We have been to six agility trials, and Hannah is close to getting her championship.  We need only two successful runs to complete the title, but these are not easy to get.  Willie, my male terrier, has been out of commission for several months.  He started leaning to one side, and not wanting to jump.  He has done this before, and it was thought he had injured his shoulder, but now the vet thinks he has a herniated disc in his neck.  He had hit his head very hard two years ago leaping for his ball, and since then had problems off and on.  He has not been allowed to play, tug at his toys, or train for agility, and until last week had not been in a trial since Thanksgiving.  This has been very hard for him, and I am quite sure he felt he didn't count any more.  I took him to the trials, but he wasn't allowed to do anything, and he was getting very grouchy with all this inactivity.  Gradually, I have been increasing his activity, and last weekend he was entered in a trial.  He was so happy!!!  He was cautious jumping, but when he found out it didn't hurt, he raced around the courses, winning two, with the happiest smile on his face.  From now on he will be in a Veteran's program where he jumps at a lower jump height, and I will watch him carefully for any sign that he may be hurting.  Here is in in better days.

 
The greenhouses, of course, are full of pleasures this time of year.  I couldn't imagine these months without them.  On the most miserable days, I can walk into their sheltered environment and breathe in the scent of blooming bulbs.  It has not been a very good year for Oxalis, since they need sun to open their beautiful flowers, but there are other pleasures on hand.  Lachenalias are in bloom now, and many Gladioli are also blooming.  Here is the beautiful L. viridflora, in bloom at Christmas time.

I have a collection of many bulbs that I never offer on the web site, including a small collection of Narcissus species.  Here is the lovely little N. bulbocodium.  This sweet little narcissus is the easiest to grow, multiplying well.  It is often available from bulb brokers.  Another favorite is the tiny N. calcicola.  this is so small it almost belongs in a doll's house.  the flowers are only about 5mm across.  Here it is to the left.  I am hand-pollinating these lovely treasures in the hope of offering them in future years.

Many Hippeastrum are in bloom now.  The wonderful spidery H. cybister is sending up its buds.  I have four accessions of this beautiful Hippeastrum and all are slightly different as far as form and color are concerned.  This year I have many buds, so, hopefully, I will get some seed. There are no guarantees, however, since my careful pollination of Paramongaia weberbaurii with three batches of different pollen was totally unsuccessful.   I was crushed.

As I work in the greenhouses on these dark days my thoughts are constantly drifting across the ocean to my many customers in Japan.  I have been in touch with some who are showing great courage in this terrible catastrophe.  Living as I do in a very seismically active area, within sight of the Pacific Ocean, and also within a few miles of a decomissioned nuclear power plant which has spent fuel rods stored on site, I am fully aware that this kind of tragedy could very well happen here.  There is little we can do about the forces of nature, but surely we have to face up to this nuclear madness.

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The Morning Walkabout

Work continues at a very intense pace, and my morning walkabouts with the dogs are much curtailed.  This is, in part, due to the fact that I rent my large Victorian house out in the summer to people on vacation, and during the summer months it is full.  My morning walks around the garden, therefore, have to be put aside in deference to the guests' privacy, so this morning when we had a two day respite, it was much welcome.  A break from the garden helps me see it with fresh eyes, and as I strolled around this morning, I was making a mental list of things to do in the fall, while disturbing dozens of tiny little green frogs that seemed to be everywhere.

Our new house rules are that when the dogs are loose outside, the kittens are in the barn, and vice versa.  My dogs, unfortunately, are not to be trusted with cats outside.  This is no slur on their characters.  They were, after all, bred to hunt and kill other furry creatures, and this instinct is hard-wired in their genes.  I wish it were otherwise, but I would be foolish to trust them at this stage.  I hope as time goes on, they will learn that these are OUR cats, and must be left alone.  In the barn it is different.  With close supervision they will not bother the kittens, and even seem to like them.  So, this morning, since my dogs were taking their post-breakfast naps, I let the kittens out and had their company as I did my morning tour of the garden and greenhouses.  With the dogs inside, the heifers in the field next door also showed an interest, following us down the fence line.

Working cleaning bulbs in the greenhouse where I grow the subtropical bulbs, I was enveloped with the most heavenly scent the past few days.  Hymenocallis eucharidifolia is in bloom, and the scent is wonderful.  The beautiful Scadoxus multiflorus ssp. katherinae is also in full bloom.  This lovely Scadoxus can make an excellent garden plant in mild climates.  Here it is to the right, with an umbel of satiny flowers that measures about 15cm (6") across.

The weather continues to be cold and drizzly, with the sun breaking through for short periods.  This is reputed to be one of the coldest, wettest springs on record.  We know it here at Telos, for there have been unusual losses.  Almost all of the mature bulbs of the California Fritillarias have been lost.  This is a serious setback, for I depend on these for seed for propagation.  Many of my California lilies have also suffered, especially those from the dry inland regions.  My bulbs are protected from rain, but the long, cold, wet months of spring when the temperatures should have been warming and the humidity decreasing were conditions they are simply not adapted to.  I am fairly philosophical about such losses.  You have to be when you grow any kind of plants, for Mother Nature will, sooner or later, throw you a curve ball.  It is time to take stock, and reconsider what to grow in the future, perhaps eliminating some of the more difficult species except for a few specimens for my own enjoyment.  We will see.

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The Morning Walkabout

Summer has finally arrived, the morning mists clearing to sunny days.  As the sun arises, bands of mist lie like veils over the fields, disappearing to leave the grasses sparkling with beads of moisture.  It is the best time of day, the world awakening with roosters crowing and birds singing.  My work day has not yet commenced, and my head is free of the lists of tasks to be achieved as I wander around the garden.

I had written before that I had installed a small herb garden and put a fountain base as a focal point.  It now has its own little ecosystem with plants and fish, and this tiny pool has given me a lot of pleasure.  I planted a waterlily, intending it as shade for the fish, and it obligingly sent up two fat buds, one of which opened a few days ago.  There are even tadpoles, which probably came with the plants, now growing bumps on their sides where their legs will develop.

There is little in bloom in the greenhouses this time of year, but about a year ago I acquired Ipomoea bolusiana from Dylan Hannon.  It comes from the Transvaal of South Africa and grows from a tuberous rootstock, part of which is exposed, so I think I should describe it as a caudex.  I am very fond of morning glory-type flowers, so I was thrilled when it opened its first bud yesterday, and now am stricken with a desire to acquire more such plants. I know very little about this genus, but that is the joy of growing plants, there is so much to explore that you never run out of new adventures.

I have a few Hippeastrum in bloom.  Here, to the right, is a beautiful cross between H. papilio and H. cybister.  I am not myself prone to make crosses, and the seed came from a friend, but I certainly appreciate the results.   To the left is a species, H. mandoni, a very large Hippeastrum that can grow to three feet with stunning flowers.  In mild climates this can be grown in the garden.  One day I will post on Hippeastrum, but my collection is somewhat limited, and the genus itself somewhat overwhelming, plus I am still waiting to get blooms on some of the rarer species.

The kittens are growing at an incredible rate.  They no longer both fit in my lap, so there is a good deal of competition as to who gets the prime spot, but since they only stop moving for about a half minute at a time, this is not yet a serious problem.  Fortunately, I have great patience with animals, so when they dash across the keyboard, or toss all my carefully organized papers all over the floor, I mostly laugh and put things back.  They have reorganized some of my computer files, by hitting some of those strange keys I never use that have 'F' in front of them, and that took a bit of sorting out!  I want them to be good mousers, so I found an electronic mouse that squeaks when you tap it (it sounds very life-like, or maybe throes-of-death-like), and I feed them raw beef occasionally to get them to like the taste of raw meat. Without a mom to teach them these skills I am doing my best to substitute.  Willie, my male terrier, desperately wants the mouse, and on occasion has got one and thoroughly killed it, so we are now on our eighth mouse.  I am totally amazed when people say (usually pursing their lips while they say it) that they don't like cats.  What is there to dislike?  They are beautiful, endlessly entertaining and extremely affectionate.  And .... they get rid of your mice, and when you have greenhouses full of bulbs, that is a very important consideration, so here at Telos they even earn their keep.

My day ended yesterday with a pleasant half mile walk to my neighbors' house for a barbecue.  These are the wonderful neighbors, Wayne and Rashell, who leave meals in my mailbox, among other kindly things they do for me.  A great evening with good friends, walking back at sunset with a great ball of fire sinking below the horizon.

Today I will work on international orders, and continue with the unpotting of the California native bulbs.  It is a busy time of year, with long work days, and our local agility trial is next weekend, so I don't have a second to spare.  I wouldn't have it any other way.

www.telosrarebulbs.com