Zanthan Gardens
Weblog of a Central Austin Garden

Carol at May Dreams Gardens invites us to tell her what’s blooming in our gardens on the 15th of each month.

May 15, 2008

Austin has two summers. May marks our first early summer, when temperatures are in the low 80s to mid 90s and the humidity is off the chart. This is our old southern summer. As the meadow flowers go to seed, the sweet scents of four o’clocks, Confederate jasmine, crinum lilies, and magnolia hang heavily on the air. The humidity is oppressive but it typically means rain (often from violent thunderstorms). Generally May is wonderfully green. (The second summer is our southwestern summer which starts around the 4th of July. Then we expect long days of drought, temperatures in the 100s, water-rationing, and general misery. The color of second summer is brown.)

In my garden, May has the feel of winding down. I yank out the wildflowers, save seeds, and top dress and mulch all the plants I hope to keep through summer. This year, I think I’ll rename May “Pam/Digging” month. She’s given me so many passalongs that are in bloom right now, finally finding sunlight as I pull the exuberant growth of the wildflowers off them: white mistflower, purple coneflower, society garlic, and zexmenia. Pam has helped me extend the flowering season at Zanthan Gardens and May is no long just the month of green.

New for May

Acanthus mollis

This very tropical-looking plant with the imposing flower stalk is one of my favorites. Apparently it can’t be killed. People from the Pacific northwest frequently write to me to ask how to get rid of it. In Austin, it dies down when temperatures hit 92F–so it’s not a problem. In fact, its habit leaves a disappointing hole in the border during the summer.

Magnolia grandiflora ‘Little Gem’

Bruised, battered, and blooming–my ‘Little Gem’ magnolia is the perfect emblem for this May’s bloom day after last night’s very destructive storm.

Rudbeckia hirta, Black-eyed Susan

I planted the annual black-eyed Susans the first summer I lived here and I’ve never been without them since. They self-sow, coming up the same time as the bluebonnets and the larkspur but not flowering until those spring wildflowers have died down. I don’t really love it but I’m always glad to see it because for years it was the only thing blooming in my garden at this time of year. Last year I bought the perennial Rudbeckia fulgida; they’re just coming up now.

Echinacea purpurea, purple coneflower

One of the passalongs from Pam/Digging. This is the first time I’ve ever grown purple coneflower and these are the first flowers that bloomed.

And also new for May…

• Borago officianalis
• Cosmos sulphureus
• Dolichos lablab
• Hibiscus syriacus
• Malvaviscus arboreus Turks cap
• Nigella damascena ‘Mulberry Rose’ (3 miniscule flowers the size of a dime)
• Papaver somniferum “Dorothy” selection
• Plumbago auriculata
• rose ‘New Dawn’ (back, north border)
• Ruellia
• summer squash
• white mistflower
• Zexmenia

Between GBBDs

Several flower bloomed and faded in my garden between GBBDs and so didn’t show up in the inventory for either April or May.

• bearded iris ‘Champagne Elegance’
• bearded iris ‘Silverado’
• Nigella damascena ‘Mulberry Rose’ (3 miniscule flowers the size of a dime)
• rose ‘Mermaid’
• Tulbaghia violacea (society garlic)
• Zephyranthes grandiflora (some bloomed yesterday, some will bloom tomorrow, but none are blooming today. Killjoys.)

Complete List for May

The garden is not as flowery as this list might make you believe. About half these flowers are going to seed and about to get composted.

• Acanthus mollis
• Borago officianalis
• Centaurea cyanus Black Magic’
• Commelinantia anomala (a couple that resist my stamping them down)
• Consolida ambigua (a few in the shade)
• Cosmos sulphureus
• Dolichos lablab
• Dianthus chinensis (reblooming now that the wildflowers have been cleared off)
• Duranta erecta
• Echinacea purpurea
• Engelmannia peristenia/pinnatifida
• Erythrina herbacea (coral bean)
• Eschscholzia californica ‘Mikado’
• Hesperaloe parviflora
• Hibiscus syriacus
• Lantana montevidensis (a few tiny flowers)
• Lantana x hybrida ‘New Gold’
• Lathyrus odoratus ‘Perfume Delight’
• Lavandula heterophylla ‘Goodwin Creek’ (a few tiny flowers)
• Lupinus texensis (mostly going to seed; first plant now flowering since 12/15)
• Magnolia grandiflora ‘Little Gem’
• Malvaviscus arboreus
• Mirabilis jalapa
• Nandina domestica
• Nerium oleander ‘Turner’s Shari D.’
• Nigella damascena ‘Persian Jewels’ mix
• Oenothera speciosa
• Oxalis crassipis (hot pink, full bloom)
• Oxalis triangularis (only purple, not white)
• Papaver somniferum “Dorothy” selection
• Polanisia dodecandra
• Phlomis lanata
• Plumbago auriculata
• Retama
• rose ‘Blush Noisette (full bloom)
• rose ‘Ducher’ (waning)
• rose ‘New Dawn’
• rose ‘Red Cascade’ (two small flowers)
• rose ‘Souvenir de la Malmaison’ (one flower opened today)
• Rudbeckia hirta
• Ruellia
• Sedum album
• Setcresea (both purple and green)
• Trachelospermum jasminoides (starting to fade)
• Verbena canadensis (lavender wilding)
• Viola cornuta ‘Sorbet Coconut Duet’
• white mistflower
• Zexmenia

…as Maxwell Smart used to say. This medium-sized limb fell right next to my bedroom window and landed on the winter vegetable garden. Luckily nothing is growing there right now and the trunk missed my new pots. More importantly, it missed our new metal roof. (A tree fell on our old roof in 2001 and we had to replace it then.)

Shortly after 11:30 last night we were awakened by large hail. We took refuge in the hallway away from all the windows because hail was flying off our metal roof and bouncing against the windows. The trees were waving wildly in the wind and when we saw green light and sparks flying, we guessed one of the limbs had fallen on the power lines. The power went out. The storm was fast and furious and it wasn’t very long before we were outside with our flashlights.

The cedar elms next to the driveway had two large limbs whip around and fall against the power lines. Anticipating this, we had paid to have this tree trimmed back two years ago. Just a couple of months ago, in preparing to put in new taller electric poles, the city had trimmed all my trees away from the lines again. But the cedar elm limbs are pretty big. The city crew arrived at 3:30 to cut the limbs off the lines. The mailbox and some of the rails in the picket fence were damaged while the crew worked in the dark. But no biggie–they have a tough job restoring power every time one of these storms hits. This tree is almost split in half and I’ll have to have the rest of it taken out.

In the back, the top of another cedar elm sheared off. Half landed in the meadow and half landed and snapped the cherry laurel. Overall, the damage was minor. One tomato crushed. Two pepper plants. The cherry laurel was split in half, as was the chili pequin. But the roof and the cars and all the potted plants escaped damage.

Our neighbors were not so lucky. Next door, recent arrivals from Maine were dismayed to wake up a tree limb on top of their car. “We don’t have tornados in Maine.” It wasn’t a tornado, though. Just high winds. Storms like these are the reason that it was imperative we remove the unattached metal roof from the garden house.

And on the corner, a huge old tree completely uprooted, taking the curb with it, and fell on the cute little cottage. The house is empty right now. The old woman who lived there died recently. I’m told her husband planted that tree when they first moved into that house in the 1940s. When the city put in the bus stop and wanted to build a sidewalk, she fought them to save the tree and won.

Dateline: 2008
As usual summer arrives in Austin with a vengeance in week 19. Last Friday temperatures hit a muggy 97F (5/9), cooling of to a mere 95F on Saturday. We received a wonderful reprieve on Mother’s Day and yesterday the high was only 78. I spent all day in the garden, tearing out larkspur and cilantro and mulching the perennials.

Even without the larkspur and cilantro, the meadow is looking pretty good. I did better job this year of balancing the early and late bloomers so that there is still a lot of color from Engelmann daisy, pink evening primrose, and poppies.

The coral bean is in full bloom and the root-hardy perennials that had been smothered under the exuberance of the wildflowers are starting to grow: the purple coneflower, the butterfly bush, the black-eyed susan. These are blooming in other people’s gardens (probably because weren’t hidden from the sun all spring) while mine are just getting started. And unlike last year, my red yucca is blooming very well this year. It has two stalks.

First flower: Plumbago auriculata (5/8); Rudbeckia hirta (5/8); Acanthus mollis (5/11); Ruellia (5/11) the passalong; Magnolia grandiflora ‘Little Gem’ (5/12); Zexmenia (5/12).

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“That’s one of my favorite shots,” Tom Spencer said to me as he caught me pointing the camera at my feet to take a photo of his limestone pavers. “The arrangement is based on a pattern I saw in Japan.”

Of course, any photo I take of Tom Spencer’s garden is redundant. Few gardens I know are as beautifully photographed as his Possumhaw Hollow. Tom Spencer has been “exploring the garden of life” via his site Soul of the Garden since 2000. Looking at his year by year photo albums documenting the making of his garden from in an ordinary old suburban yard, I’m left awed. (Even AJM appreciates that here is a man with a plan.)

The strong geometry of the garden appeals to me. You see it both in the layout (a series of corridors connected like Tinker Toys with circular rooms at each junction) and in the grouping of smaller elements.

Each little garden room forms a kind of sacred space. There is a quiet, meditative feel to each of them. And they each contain their own set of relics.

I love all the different textures in Tom’s garden. The paths are decomposed granite sand, while chipped granite in the beds echoes the color but has a rougher texture. Contrast that with smooth river rock or metal edging. Pools of blue glass or pieces of pottery draw the eye like mini-oases in the sand.

I no longer say things like “I don’t like red flowers” because I’ve realized that the color of a flower affects me differently depending on the texture and shape of the flower. When I think of marigolds, I don’t like orange. But when I think of California poppies, orange becomes my favorite color. And when I see coral bean, I suddenly love red flowers.

Coral bean, Erythrina herbacea, unfolds huge panicles of a satisfyingly deep red that makes the nearby red yucca look washed out. I find the color difficult to capture. Photos taken in the shade make the red too dull and purple. Photos, like these, taken in the sunlight turn the color more orange than they look to the naked eye.

The coral bean is an undemanding plant. Here in Austin it dies down to the ground every winter but is root hardy. In the spring it grows fairly large (about the size of a duranta or esperanza) before flowering in late April or early May. The deep red flowers attract both hummingbirds and butterflies. The heart-shaped leaves are large and tropical-looking but it can take the heat. I bought mine in a 2-gallon pot in 2003 and it survived the drought of 2006.

Coral bean blooms better in sun. Last year the spot it was in was so overshadowed by trees that it didn’t bloom at all. Now that I’ve cut down the Chinaberry tree it’s getting both early morning and mid-afternoon sun and flowering better.

Coral bean is not a child-friendly plant. It is quite thorny and its seeds are poisonous.

Two small stems of the bearded iris ‘Silverado’ bloomed for May Day. I want to say that ‘Silverado’ has never been very vigorous in my garden but photographic evidence contradicts me. Apparently I had quite a good stand of it in 2003 before I divided it and moved it. The three large rhizomes I’d bought from Schreiner’s Iris in 1999 had multiplied to 12 crowded small ones.

Schreiner’s bred ‘Silverado’ and introduced it to the iris world in 1987 where it took award after award, winning the highest honor, the Dykes Medal, in 1994. The color is the palest silvery blue with the slightest hint of lavender. The color glimmers in the mist or moonlight but washes out in glaring sunlight. The blooms are full and ruffled without the over-the-top frilliness of some modern irises. The standards and the falls are proportionately balanced.

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Last Friday Vertie invited me along on her first trip to pick up recycled glass that the City of Austin has made available free to customers who want to use it as decorative mulch, for lining French drains, or to create a drainage layer under a raised bed.

I had seen pelleted glass mulch at the Springs Preserve and on the Travis County Master Gardeners tour and was interested in trying it–especially for free. The City of Austin doesn’t separate the glass by color so what you get is a mosaic of brown, green, and clear glass with the occasional blue shard and a lot of sand mixed in. When we first saw it, we were both a bit surprised and disappointed. We were told that over time the larger pieces rise to the top and the sand to the bottom.

Although the glass has been tumbled in sand, there are still sharp edges. I hesitate to use it anywhere I’d have to weed and dig later (especially since I don’t wear gloves). I think in the future I will use it primarily in places I need to create good drainage.

I decided to put this batch along the front walk where I tore out the Spanish bayonets last January. I weeded the area and then put down weed blocker cloth before pouring about 3 inches of glass mulch on top. The yard drops sharply at one end and I rearranged the chunks of concrete I recycled when we remodelled our kitchen on the slope. The decorative glass mulch smells like a stale garbage can. A good rain should wash the scent and sand away.

How long do you think this will stay weed and leaf-free? At least when the revelers walking up from concerts at Auditorium Shores throw their beer bottles in my yard, it will blend in with the landscaping.

How to Get Glass Mulch

Color-mixed processed glass aggregate. Generated from the sorting of commingled materials picked up from the City of Austin’s curbside recycling program. Contaminants: Approx. 5%; includes paper and caps.

1. Make an appointment.
Go to the Texas Commission for Environmental Quality site for the latest contact information. Pickup is by appointment only because the TCEQ workers can allow people back in the yards only when they aren’t back there working. The site is off Ben White Blvd near Burleson Rd.

2. Be prepared to self-load.
Vertie and I brought every bucket and plastic container we could load into her car, our own shovels, and gloves. We brought a couple of containers that were almost too large for us to lift out of her car together when they were filled. Wet sand and glass is heavy! Also, we both foolishly wore our gardening Crocs. Wear tough boots! There is lots of large pieces of sharp glass all over the loading area.

3. Check in on arrival.
We parked in the front and checked in. I’m glad I went with Vertie because the complex has an intimidating industrial warehouse feel and we wandered around a bit before we found anyone to help us. When we did find Karl, he was as friendly as can be so I stopped feeling weird about the experience and started enjoying getting something for free.

Note: This post was written for today’s Hoe Down at May Dreams Gardens.

Like a faded wall-flower at the prom, my hoe is frequently overlooked and underappreciated. I prefer a garden fork and pruning shears for fighting my way through my root-laden clay. However, since Spring Fling, this hoe has been putting on airs. She had the thrill of a little one-on-one action with Carol, connoisseur of hoes, the hoe-stess with the mostest.

As I handed the hoe over to Carol’s capable hands, she eyed it critically. “Needs sharpening.” was her assessment.

“But how do you use it?” I asked, perplexed. “Do you dig with the pointy end? chop with the curved blade?” I want to pull it through the dirt like a plow blade but the angle of attack seems all wrong.

Carol slid her hand up and down the wooden handle, testing the center of balance. “Like this,” she demonstrated with a few smooth, easy strokes on the chipped bark path. My hoe’s finest moment. Carol looked around. “You don’t really have the right kind of garden for hoes. You need a vegetable garden. With rows.”

Unloved hoe. She knows her best days are behind her.

AJM came in upset from his morning ritual of greeting the goldfish. “There’s a toad or something caught in the bird-netting and I think it’s dead.” I went to check and so it was. The poor thing had gotten its nose stuck in the netting and its own weight held just its nose under water and it drowned.

Last night a second maker of ribbets joined the bullfrog. And then there was a distinctively different croak. Was it this frog? A Rio Grande leopard frog, Rana berlandieri perhaps. This one was large, (although I don’t know how frogs are measured), at least 4 inches from nose to anus not counting the legs.

This is not the first time the bird-netting has caught something unintended. Durn raccoons. If it weren’t for the raccoons, I wouldn’t put the netting over the pond. If I take it off, then I chance waking to dead goldfish tomorrow. Is what differentiates humans from other animals the fact that all our interventions are fraught with anxiety? Or is that just a phenomenon of us city-bred moderns, we squeamish ones, who are out of touch with death?

Julie @ Human Flower Project passed along poppy seeds which finally started blooming this week. (Everyone else’s in Austin bloomed throughout April.) She said the double-selection was salmon. In soft early morning light it looked more dusty rose; in glaring afternoon light, definitely salmon. (These two photos are of the same flower taken about six hours apart.)

My love-in-a-mist, Nigella damascena had almost died out so, thinking I had enough blue flowers, I planted some ‘Mulberry Rose’ seeds from Renee’s Garden. The cilantro overgrew them and when I was clearing it out yesterday, I discovered these miniature nigella flowers, about the size of a dime, on teeny-tiny plants. (Seed packet: mature height 18-24 inches). Apparently they prefer room to grow.

On the opposite end of the scale, the unwieldy crinum (maybe Crinum bulbispermum) continue to flower. These large bulbs don’t like being moved and have taken about three years to settle in and start blooming.

The pink rainlilies, Zephryanthes grandiflora opened all at once today. A single early flower opened on April 28th–but today is really rainlily day.