The Bulb Maven

Blackberry Summer

Summer is winding down, with crisp mornings heralding the fall.  I always feel the end of summer has come when our local County Fair has ended.  The fairgrounds are only a half block from my property, so the festivities are part of my daily life for ten days.  After the fair, all is quiet, and there has been a marked shift in the weather, with clear mornings and stars at night.  The dozens of horse stalls are being cleared out at the fairgrounds and I have had twelve truckloads of bedding delivered to my place waiting to be spread later on the beds and shrub borders.  A 'thank you' of a case of beer is the accepted etiquette for the truck driver.

We have had a lovely summer with many sunny days.  We usually have fog in the morning, but clearing by mid-morning, returning in the late evening.  I love this weather, it keeps the greenhouses at a reasonable temperature, and I can work in them until noon, after which I have to move things outside.  I have a very long driveway that goes to my barn, then to the greenhouses and the back pastures.  Along the fence is a huge blackberry patch with vines arching over the fence.  There are always blackberries, but this year the crop has been spectacular and friends and neighbors have been coming by to pick them.  We have virtually stripped the ripe ones, and in two days there are just as many to pick again.  I am not much of a cook, but I have made cobblers, crisps, jelly, jam and a delicious compote to pour over ice cream and yogurt, and I am still not tired of them.

The garden looks a bit shabby this time of year, but there is still much to see.  I don't water very much and don't water the grass at all, so by now it is patchy and tired looking for we have had no rain at all for months.  I have difficulty posting multiple pictures on this blog, so here is a slide show of the garden: https://youtu.be/eUUvakVBMrU

The Morning Walkabout

Bulbs are not the only plants I love.  I have a very large garden, probably about an acre all told, although the house takes up a good part of that.  This morning I was greeted by an almost full moon, with a lovely dawn sky to the east.  This is the month for a blue moon - nothing to do with the color, but the rarity of having two full moons in one month.  Our skies have been clear the past several days and the moon this morning was so bright you could actually see colors.

I have just learned how to post videos on Youtube, so here is a short slide show of the garden.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LIB6-s1RknE&feature=youtu.be 

The Morning Walkabout

Our local county fair has ended, marking for me the winding down of summer.  Some Amaryllids are blooming, although most will come later as the days shorten and the nights cool.  This morning there was a sharpness in the air with mist hugging the ground which cleared as the sun arose.

Shipping continues at a brisk pace and caring for the bulbs has to be squeezed in whenever I can.  the bulbs should come first, of course, but customers needs are important also, and I sometimes get plaintive e-mails asking when the bulbs will arrive.  I will be leaving for my annual trip to Oregon in a week for a few days of hiking in the mountains and a two day agility trial with my dogs.  I will be taking Arlo for his first camping trip, but will leave him with friends while I take longer hikes with my two terriers.  This, of course, puts more pressure on me to clear as many orders as possible before I leave, including several large international orders.  Here is Arlo, worn out from helping in the greenhouses.

Cyrtanthus sanguineus is now in bloom in the greenhouse.  I grew these from seed, and was rather unexcited about them until they bloomed, since the flowers are orange, a rather common color in the bulb world, and I had not seen them in the flesh.  Well, they are outstanding, an almost glowing creamy orange, with very large flared trumpets.  Really beautiful.  Also blooming is Veltheimia deasii, sometimes thought to be a subspecies of V. capensis.  It is very similar, but more compact and with leaves that are much more crisped along the margins.  Very nice.

I often work until evening these days, my pets usually wanting to be near at hand.  I have to keep an eye on the puppy, who has energetically dug up entire flats of seedling bulbs, but the cats tend to curl up and nap in the warm temperatures.  The evenings are beautiful, all golden with the setting sun, the sea fog lifting this time of year.  Here is a picture from my office.

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The Morning Walkabout

I have been working hard these past weeks, with no trips for dog trials and no days off.  We are taking the bulbs out of their pots and I am shipping all orders that I can.  The California natives are the last to be removed from the pots, and they are setting seed now.

Yesterday when I awoke I simply couldn't focus on the tasks that needed attention, so I decided it was time for a day off from bulbs.  There are several wonderful trails nearby, and my favorite is Guthrie Creek, a lovely one mile trail that winds down a steep headland to a beautiful cove.  The weather was fantastic, warm and sunny but with a good breeze, so a perfect morning for a hike.  Off we went.

The dogs were in heaven, and we had the entire trail and cove to ourselves, with prints of coyotes and deer in the sand.  The trail was lined with wildflowers.  It is only about a mile down to the cove, but the trail is very steep.  At the end it plummeted right into the creek, but my dogs didn't hesitate and forged on.  They are terriers, and not particularly fond of water, but this was different, and Willie my timid one led the way.  Relaxing on the beach I found ticks all over my legs, and picked many off.  Back at the car I combed the dogs and picked off more, and at home gave everyone baths and washed clothes and dog bedding, but I am still removing them this morning.  Oh, well.

 

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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.

www.telosrarebulbs.com

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.

www.telosrarebulbs.com

 

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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