Variegation 1

I have certain rules for plants that I buy.  1) Leaves must be no smaller than the size of my hand - preferably, they should be bigger than my head.  2)  If a plant is freaky - e komo mai!  3)  Smell is fabulous - I like them sweet and rancid.  But all these rules go out the window in the face of variegation.  I am pretty much unable to resist any and all kinds of variegated foliage.

Since I've been redoing one side garden, I've found that I've been amassing quite a number of variegated leafed plants.  I've posted some pictures of some below with my best internet guesses as to what they are.  Some of these plants were purchased from some guy who didn't know what it was but was willing to grab a shovel and dig some out of his back yard others were purchased from Ko'olau Farmers which notoriously labels things just as "ginger".  If anyone knows what these plants really are, please let me know.

Zingiber zerumbet "Darcyi"

Rhapis excelsa variegated

Zingiber mioga

Alpinia zerumbet varigata

Alipinia zerumbet varigata with a Rhapis excelsa puppy to the left

Variegated Cordyline

Hibiscus rosa-sinensis variegata

I have more variegation to post next week.  Happy Sunday gardening to you all.

Grow Where You're Planted

Or forced against your will or nature to be.

Although I'm slowly learning the nature of orchid growing and am no longer just the hand of death, I find that if I can stick them in the tree (that is, make Scot climb the tree and either shove it in a crook or tie it to a branch), they do MUCH better.

Sometimes nature's best elixer is neglect.

Sometimes, if you get lucky, where you are just suits you.

So bloom today.

The Tyranny of the Large Plant

I've planted my garden so bass-ackwards.  Fortunately, I fully and truly believe that if a shovel can get it out of the ground, anything can be moved, and it will survive and do even better this time.  I'm like the Liz Taylor of gardeners.  

But at this point, my beautiful ohai ali'i (Caesalpinia pulcherrima) just won't be.  I love this plant.  It's been moved so often, and look at it.

Isn't it beautiful?  Look at the shape of its branches, and it's always a dependable flower-er.  But having put it where it is (actually, not true - it was somewhere much more wonderful, but the Phyllostachys nigra crowded it out), its current location has kind of massively effed up the whole garden design.

So, too, have the criniums.

Note the seed bulb

Close up of seeds of the crinium - ALL OF THEM WILL GERMINATE

Hiding behind the equally huge kava (Piper methysticum) 

All border plans very sensibly point out the benefits of the tall, medium, short arrangement.  So where are my big plants - the ones that should be functioning as anchors?  In the middle-front.

But don't I kind of owe the plant for becoming, well, a fully mature plant?  And the ohai is not going to survive the transplant unless I bring in a backhoe to dig it out, and with the grade in my yard, that's not going to happen.  OK, even if my yard were flat, it wouldn't happen.  And these plants kind of deserve to live given all of my neglect, so . . . so I'm kind of being held hostage by a bunch of plant thugs.

At what point does a gardener decide to cut her losses?  At what point does a gardener decide it's time to change horses - even if it's in mid-stream?  At what point does holding on to what is good, but not what you want, cost you more in the long run?

I've put 6 years into this garden.  Sometimes I feel that if only I had chosen differently.  If only I had thought things out more.  If only I had known.  Things would be better/more beautiful/perfect.  If only.

Thievery

Sucks.  And thieves suck more.

Several weeks ago, there were some attempted break-ins in my very small neighborhood.  A little scary as one of the targeted homes is inhabited by an elderly lady who would have been at home during the time.

Luckily, both attempts failed, but they've left a sense of vulnerability in their wake.  And hatred.  Let's not forget the negativity.  Today's attempt was especially unnerving to me since not only was it really early, but the neighbors were all up and about walking their dogs, chatting with each other, and I was thinning out my broms on the street.  I didn't notice a thing, and it's the house one over from mine!  

Brent Green who was featured in what is my favorite gardening issue of Sunset magazine (the article featuring Mr. Green was amazingly inspiring) noted that instead of putting bars on windows, homeowners should put pots of plants in front of potential entry points.  I wish I could find you the specific image in the magazine (it's not online) - it was kind of hilarious.  A would be intruder would have had to move - no kidding - something like 20 huge pots.  He also points out that plants with thorns help the situation, too.

Really?  OK, check out these BAMFs:

No one escapes this life unscathed

I'm trying to make a point here . . .

Unfortunately, I'd probably impale myself on these if I were to put it up against my vulnerable point of entry windows.  And because I'm me, and I did compete in Speech (hey, I practiced what I endorse), I always feel compelled to dramatize any situation.  If only I could sing and/or dance, I'd make all events so much more memorable than they need to be.


But when I say: THANK YOU KANEOHE POLICE DEPARTMENT!, I am not over drama queening it.  Their coming so fast to check things out really goes a long way to helping make things emotionally better for me.  So does my rearranging a lot of heavy pots with hideously vicious thorned broms in them in fron of my vulnerable points of entry - but hey, let's be realistic here - my plants don't pack heat.  Yet.  

Mirror . . . Reality

Later-ish post today - it was a great day to go surfing!

Back from Kailua Beach, I resumed my normal routine of making myself feel like a garden loser by reading Sunset's Patio and Stone.  My garden looks NOTHING like the ones in the book.  This realization came as quite a surprise, I can tell you.  Once I got over the shock, it came to me that I have the same relationship that Harry Potter does with the Mirror of Erised a la Nathan Rarick.  You know: Mirror . . . REALITY.

In that spirit, I'm going to start posting Mirror . . . REALITY posts every so often.  It's only a little depressing and embittering.


So here's the first Mirror:

Design and photograph by Mosaic Gardens

REALITY:

Separated at birth

Similar, right?  You can see how I'd mistake the two in my head.


Finally: Join and/or support Debate and Speech teams!  If you're a community member, consider judging at tournaments.  Participation in either is one of the best indicators of success at university.  It's a lot of fun, you'll learn a lot, and you'll have a lot more faith in tomorrow's leaders.


Oh, and maybe watch Part 1 of Nathan Rarick's Harry Potter video.  

Of Mice and Men

And unoriginal title posts.

Given the likelihood of the oncoming zombie apocalypse, Scot determined that per pound and cost, tilapia provided the best food source.  Accordingly, he put up a self-filtering system which, while FUH-UG-LY, is pretty amazing in its self-sustainability.  Except when it fails.  Which only occurs when I'm on watch.  You can see it in its incipient stage in the last photo on this post.  Cully is still as handsome as ever.  I wish I could say the same about the whole set-up.  And the fish. 

We're delicious!  Just kidding!  We're diseased, don't eat us.

But humans cannot live on tilapia alone.  Or at least, I can't.  Although when the zombies come, I guess I could.  But it helps to have something to help zip it up - and help me forget that I'm dining on poop-eating fish.  (If you grew up in Hawai'i when I did, that's what you thought tilapia ate - that's why they were so black and living in gross water.)  So chilis!  And let's face it, chilis solve kind of a lot of issues taste-wise.  One of the latest additions to the lower deck garden is Capsicum annuum "Black Cuban".

Allegedly edible.  Will keep you posted.  Or if I never write again after I eat it, please take the hint. 

I kind of had my doubts that this was edible.  The lady at the Kailua Ko'olau Farmers was less than reassuring with her: "oh, umm, yeah, sure."  And it wasn't the lady whom I trust; this was a new employee, so there's no trust built up.  There's nothing in our relationship history for me to fall back on or hold on to.  But thanks internet!  You never lie to me.  Ever.

Information about the plant said that the peppers were ripe when they turned red.  If you've grown chilis before, you know how fast these things get ripe.  And these just wouldn't change color.  Fortunately, it had good looks going for it.  But then two days ago, there was a reddish one.  And today boom. 

Bring it, zombies.

Two!  We're rich!  And I think that the one in the top of the photo looks like it might be considering ripening, too.

I also put in some habanero, "Thai hots", and Naga Bhut Jolokia seeds.  They've all sprouted, so hopefully, they'll grow up to be obnoxiously and embarrassingly fecund plants.  I'll let you know how that goes.  Assuming, of course, everything goes well with the "Black Cubans".

A Year Later

And the garden has just . . . gone ugly.  Perhaps it was the Phyllostachys nigra's leaves smothering new growth or perhaps changing the acidity of the soil as it decomposed.  Or, umm, maybe not watering or weeding for 9 months?  Note to self about putting back in the drip irrigation system on a timer.

Actually, it still kind of looks like this on this side - on a good day.

Sometimes I really wish that I had left well enough alone.

But on the up side (literally), things are at least pleasant to look at, and Scot made art out of something pedestrian.

I'm thinking the same thing!  Mowing the yard would've have had a much bigger impact!

And the rhapis screen is growing up and out nicely.

Looking in

Looking out

Tough audience.

It's all wrong