Chew Chew Cherry

Remember the old Kool Aid flavors? Choo Choo Cherry replaced the politically incorrect Chinese Cherry. I'm thinking about renaming my 3in1 cherry tree Chew Chew Cherry, because something is chewing off all the pollinated blossoms and their tiny, green cherries. It's chewing them halfway up the stems, leaving me with evidence that I will not be harvesting a bumper crop this year. That is politically incorrect too, leaving no fruit for the gardener who brought the tree into your habitat. I love the birds and am happy to share the bounty with them, but share is the operative word here! Still, I am providing them with a service and if eating my cherries will get them through another day, I should not complain.

When the blossoms started blooming, I noticed that the branches were lower on the right side of the tree. It worried me that the heavy fruit from last year had permanently lowered the branches, pushing them even closer to the potential for breaking one day, from the weight of the fruit. As the branches are more horizontal, the blossoms open earlier on the right side. The rest of the tree is now blooming 3 weeks later.

I've Been Robbed!

Wasn't I just delighted beyond belief when I found this strawberry ripening in my very own garden in early March? The answer is yes, indeed! It was a thing of beauty and I couldn't wait for it to ripen fully for that first of the season, heavenly scented, berry to pass through my parted lips into my mouth for a burst of flavor in what still seems like winter weather. Not in the cards. It disappeared, like so many fantasies, when I woke up and noticed it was missing. This strain of strawberry is really working well for San Francisco. It's called Diamonte and grows very large, very healthy plants that die back during winter, but reappear in spring. I'm hoping to find more.

Orphans

Within what seemed like a short span of time, I lost both my aunt and uncle, my last living relatives in San Francisco. When their house was placed on the market, my cousin asked if I would like to take a few of their orchid plants as a memento. I'm not a big orchid fan, but my connection to these dear people was strong enough to overcome my indifference to cymbidiums. I took a few of them into my garden. With very little care they thrive and multiply as if to thank me for taking them in and helping them to survive. Each year they change just a bit, so I never know what to expect. This year they are particularly beautiful, but reminding me of departed loved ones is what I treasure most about them, as we were all orphaned by our loss. I also grow "flags" an old fashioned, fragrant iris from my mother's garden in Pasadena, and oregano from my grandparent's garden in San Francisco.

Weeds Are Sometimes a Matter of Perception

It never fails to amaze me that many plants we consider pests are actually edible. These dandelion greens were sharing space with my potted Eureka Lemon, and since I know they are perfectly edible, instead of ripping them out when they first appeared, I waited for them to grow. With a little patience and a tolerance for weeds (only if I can eat them) they turned into a nice element in a salad. Miner's lettuce, purslane, dandelions, and mustards are easily available to forage in our city and I intend to use what lands in my garden. Now, if I could only eat Bermuda grass and oxalis..... Here's a photo of my dandelion and lettuce salad with some wild arugula thrown in for good measure. The arugula was originally planted but often seeds in undesirable places. I cut it down to the roots after I am able to harvest some leaves for salads.

Grapes In Progress

It seems an eternity away when you see the first grapes of the season and anticipate when they will ripen. It's only a few months in reality, but when I photographed these dessert grapes in June, it was difficult to visualize the plump black grapes they would become. Last year they produced their first "crop" and this year it was heavier and the grapes themselves were larger, and almost bursting their skins. I bought the vine in Sonoma County a few years ago and it was labeled Perlette, but that seedless dessert grape is described as having white fruit. While the name of these grapes remains a mystery, the fact is they are sweet, spicy and luscious.

Another Harbinger of Spring

This is the same wisteria I photographed a week or so ago in the early bud stage. It amazes me how quickly this plant blooms, then fades untill nothing is left but the leaves that are starting to unfurl in this photo. The fragrance is magnificant, so I'm hoping for warm weather this weekend, so I can smell it throughout the garden during my last, grand weed purge.

Gypsy Farewell

The last of the Gypsy hyacinths are starting to fade. Usually a March arrival, this year they started in February after a week of unusual warmth. Luckily they did not all bloom at once, so their "season" lasted longer. It was surprising that the plants in the ground developed faster than those in earthenware pots. One would think that the potted bulbs would have been warmed up sooner and triggered into an earlier bloom. With all its order and interconnectedness, you'd think there would be no mysteries left in nature.

Dew Drops

How can one little drop of water turn into an event? Only a gardener would know. I ran for the camera when I saw nature's little earring, a glistening jewel, hanging from my Zinfandel vine. I know I'm making too much fuss over a dew drop, but it's things like this that keep me interested in being in the garden, searching out small treasures left by nature in my little plot.

I've done some urban archeology in the garden over these past 14 years and have found that children once shared this space. Yesterday I found part of an old cap gun, and I still keep the marbles and small bottles they left behind.