summer in Austin

Well today is the first day of my digital photography class. I hope that by the end of it I can post some reasonable photographs to add to my blog. It is amazing how an activity such as this can spill over into so many different aspects of technicalities, gardening, subdivided into soil, climate, plants, insects, fungus, hydrology, geology, birds, mammals – I could go on. Then there’s layout, color, (oh hard to spell that without a U), computerese, time management, etc. etc.

Wow success. A zinnia which is hanging in there but needs constant transfusions of water.

And an echinacea, which is doing well in light shade. Austin gardeners know what this means high canopy and survival.

My plumbago has finally started doing it's thing.

A white ruellia that survived transplanting after the heat started. My kind of plant.
But I digress as I so often do. I steer myself firmly back to the garden. It is, as you all must be tired of hearing, unbelievably hot here. Not just hot but DRY, shrivelling dry. It will be a miracle if the majority of plants make it through the summer. My milkweed regularly wilts each day. Somehow I’d envisioned a plant with weed as part of it’s name would be a little tougher. My number one tough plants, excluding cacti, are ruellias. Once they’re established they are tough and very attractive in my opinion. My two artemisias are both doing well, the Powis Castle variety and what I call wormwood. They hardly ever wilt. But this is going to be a test for most of garden. The zinnias are doing their best.

One thing I have decided is that I need to work on my soil depth and quality. I know my soil is fairly shallow. I hadn’t realized how shallow until I had my sewer line replaced a couple of years ago. I have between 8 to 12 inches of soil underlaid by sold limestone. A heroic team jack-hammered down about three or four feet and it was solid the entire way. I think it probably extends many yards down. So not only do I have limited root room what soil I have is underlaid with a porous rock that in a summer drought wicks moisture away from the soil. So I have to bite the bullet and do something about it – next winter. In the meantime I’m gathering supplies. Next fall I’m going to be the number one leaf stealer in my neighborhood. I have two pretty good sized compost heaps in my yard. They are too big for me to turn so I hope time is breaking them down to usable pieces by january. Of course it would help if it rained on them but I don’t hold out much hope.

I have acquired what looks like a lot of limestone bricks left over from a friend’s new house. I’ve been told that once I start to build up the edges of my beds what I’ve got won’t go far, but if I can raise the level of the bed even six inches it will help. I would like to raise it higher but we will see. The part I’m not looking forward to is digging out all the existing plants including bulbs and replanting them. I suppose I can thank the drought for spurring me on to do what I knew had to be done but had successfully put off for several years. I hope this will be the last big project I will have to work on. I supect it won't be but after this the only way I'll embark on large projects is if I move which I refuse to contemplate.

Finally my helper Mirk who encourages me every step of the way.

Stuck inside

I'm reading a book called "Dear Mr Jefferson" by Laura Simon. She imagines a correspondence with Thomas Jefferson about gardening. Although the letters only go one way (from Simon to Jefferson) I feel a connection, as the author does, between me and that earlier gardener. In one chapter she discusses the maps she makes of her planned garden and compares them to the ones that exist of the gardens at Monticello. I find myself exclaiming 'I do that too'. Then I discover that the three of us make maps and then change things around by the time we plant the garden. It feels as if all three of us are sitting around a dining room table, or perhaps being shown round the kitchen gardens at Monticello, comparing notes. I much prefer my history in this context. I know world shaking events are happening in the US but Thomas Jefferson finds his garden worthy of constant attention. I like to think that he could find relaxation and escape from the world's problems by digging, planning, harvesting and watching the seasons go by, I know it works for me.

How strange to be able to feel I can communicate with a man who lived two hundred years ago and feel that I could understand his, dare I call it an obsession with gardening. I do this through a third party, the author Laura Simons. It puts gardening in a different context, a historical continuum, an access to knowledge by a man known for his ability to view any problem through a unique and well thought out personal point of view. I come away from this book feeling as if I'm part of a stream of knowledge, of experience that can always speak to people, past present and future. For some reason that I'm not able to identify I find that a very comforting thought.

As I sit here watching my garden through a haze of allergies, longing to be out there but only too aware of the effects, I read every garden book I can lay my hands on. Another book that I read recently is "Water-Wise Gardening" by Thomas Christopher. The author has spent time in Austin as well as San Diego and several other locations. My favorite section is the gardener in San Diego who lives in his garden. He has a garden shower, he cooks in his garden and sleeps there. He has one room with a roof and walls which contains his books and computer, otherwise all activities take place in the garden. I love to muse on this idea knowing that I'll never be able to do it in Austin's brutal summers, savage downpours and myriads of biting bugs, but I can dream and isn't that what gardening mostly consists of?

No Pictures Just Words

I went on the Travis County Master Gardeners tour "Inside Austin" yesterday. It was one of the best I've been on (not that I've been on so many). I think the theme, sustainability, was what made it for me. The gardens were as always phenomenal, but I was really blown away by the Stocker garden. I'm not including any photos because it is really hard to do any of them justice. The best I can do is write down my impressions.

For the Stocker garden imagine a meander around the edge of a house that constantly surprises you. First the surfaces you walk on are composed of gravel and limestone slabs, so that it's a bit like stepping stones across a stream. Then when you look up you see a constantly changing view. There is no front or back of the house, there is a front door and patio seating areas but they seamlessly flow into one another. One area was mostly but not entirely home to cacti. It was a bank in bright afternoon sun backed by Junipers (or cedars for the Texans amongst you), the sun cast sharp shadows on the various shapes of the plants. There were some exquisite stacked drystone walls, done by the owners. Doors and walls divided up the spaces but never seemed too intrusive, the garden flowed in a natural way. The use of native plants was extremely effective but I was glad that the owners didn't limit themselves only to native plants. There was a beautiful blooming Mock Orange (Philadelphus virginalis 'Natchez') around one corner that was spectacular in the afternoon shade, the white flowers shining in the shadows. I also noticed a Verbena bonariensis in one bed whose leggy stems topped by a cluster of purple blooms made a sculputural feature through which to view that portion of the garden. There were too many plants to enumerate, but amongst them were Blackfoot Daisy, Winecup, Missouri Primrose, various salvias, Purple and Pink Skullcap, Purple Cone Flower, Yarrow to name just a few. What an absolutely amazing garden.

It was a unique space and you could feel the gardeners' hand on all of it. One of the reasons I like the TCMG tours is that every space is created by a gardener and that brings a richness and originality that more professionally landscaped gardens lack.

There were several gardeners who managed to grow the most interesting fruiting trees. Two gardens had olives in them and they looked beautiful with their grey foliage. The Gani's Garden had three apple trees, a fig, two peaches, a grapefruit, a grape vine, a Fuyu persimmon, blackberry, kumquat, and a loquat. All this plus vegetables, flowers and two 1500 gallon rainwater storage tanks in a small backyard, not much more than 20'X 40'. There was a small patch of lawn in the front but no grass in the back. The Stockton's had no grass, except ornamental and used hardscape for open spaces.

The Bakatsa garden had a small patch of grass in front and a backyard crammed with a huge variety of plants and a large compost pile. The fruit trees were: a huge grapefruit tree in the front yard; in the backyard three peach trees, two pomegranites (edible kind), two plums, two figs four olives and eleven citrus bushes. This plus a multitude of vegetables and flowers. If there's one thing I noticed common to all the gardens it was how close the plants were to each other. I asked each gardener how they amended their soil and while they had amended they had not:1) brought in new soil to replace existing soil, 2) brought in substantial amounts of amendments. It seemed that rarely had the amendments been more than a half inch layer on top of existing soil. They all had compost heaps which they used constantly.

Its going to take a while to absorb all this information and translate it to my own garden. But I feel much more confident about trying fruit trees in my yard. I think my main problem is going to be squirrels raiding the crops but presumably squirrels, even Rosedale squirrels, aren't big fans of olives.

Spring coming and going

This is where my garden is now. The snapdragons that I purchased last fall have finally sprung into bloom. I like to leave casual elements in my garden as well as the more organized plantings. The coriander is extremely casual popping up where it feels like it. I let it seed every year because I like the frond-like foliage and the delicate white flowers. It compliments the more rigid structure of the snapdragon and adds life as it waves in the breeze, (at least to my eyes). This is my purple/white/gray garden although I find it very hard to stick to the theme. So there are some almost blues, some pretty obvious pinks and lots of shades in between. But yellows and obvious reds (except for berries) are out and I can stick to that.

This is a clump of dianthuses? (what is the plural of dianthus?). The pink is a shocking pink and the flower has bloomed for months. It's in the multi-colored garden and I have reservations about it but it is a really sturdy plant and seems to take whatever comes it's way climatically. That is worth a lot in Texas in my present state of partial local horticultural knowledge. So it will stay for the time being. Once I get the garden more established I hope it will get toned down by other plants around it.

This dianthus is in the white/purple/grey garden because it has lovely grey foliage. It's one I picked up in the big box stores when I first moved here, and has proved indestructible so far. It is gradually getting crowded by other larger plants so I will probably move at least some of it next fall. It just steadily keeps getting bigger year by year and tolerates whatever comes its way. I could with slight exaggeration say that it was this plant that gave me the desire to continue trying to garden here. This is so unlike any other environments that I have gardened in that I was beginning to despair in the possibility of ever getting a garden to grow.


These Betilla are over now but as you can see they did bloom. This is their second year and they seem to be doing well. I first saw them at Mayfield Gardens and loved them but my first try didn't work out. A series of accidents befell them and the position was a little too dark so they eventually gave up the ghost. I found another plant at Lowes, much to my amazement, and it has done well. I hope it continues to spread until it can make a more visible clump in the garden.
Waiting for plants to get larger reminds me of how time is an important quality in the garden. It seems gardeners need to be able to patiently wait and allow the plants to do their thing but they also need to understand when a plant needs emergency water, what stage of wilting demands a response. We go from watching and waiting to resuscitation as an immediate response. Time seems to slow down to an almost imperceptible pace or speed up as a flower unfolds and blooms. Then there are the different plant times, the annuals, the biennials and the perennials all of whom operate on a different time scale. The seasons also mark time with differing plant behaviors. It's a miracle that it all comes together (at least sometimes) and seems to perform fairly regularly.

Spring exhaustion

Several salvias are going great guns, shooting up and terminating in buds. But a few spring flowers are hanging in there. Such as several varieties of dianthus. My favorite is an unassuming little pink which has not only survived for the past five or six years but in it’s modest way gradually covered more of the garden.


To tell the truth I’m exhausted by spring. The sunshine, bursting buds, and growing numbers of flowers in the garden have whipped me into a frenzy of activity. Over and above the need to get into the garden and plant, I find myself drawn to any task the garden has to offer. The lure of being outside in the lovely spring weather we've had was to hard to resist.

Over the past week I have received my seed order from Pinetree Gardens, all nineteen packets of them. So far I have planted Cleome (White Queen), Cosmos (Sensation Mixed), Gaillardia Pulchella (Sundance Bi-Color), Lemon Mint (Monarda Citriodora), Zinnia (Classic White) and finally Tarahumara Chia a herb. The last is a mystery to me but I thought the description looked interesting. The remainder of the seeds, mostly warm weather vegetables, will go in my vegetable patch in the community garden.

As I tend to order seeds from a catalog the way I order from a menu in a restaurant, with eyes bigger than my stomach, I will no doubt have a hard job fitting all my seeds into the vegetable garden. It is at present home to newly transplanted tomatoes, peppers, eggplant, basil and fennel. Not to mention peas, lettuce, sorrel, beets, carrots and potatoes which have been there, in some cases, for months and are gradually maturing. Trying to fit everything in is probably going to be impossible which I predict will lead to anguished decisions over what to sacrifice.


My Crepe Myrtles are just starting to leaf out. I had to get my sewer line replaced two summers ago, and the digging process cut right through the roots on one side. Last summer did not suit them, but that may have been the weather as well as the damaged roots. I hope they will do better this year. I envision them in great billowy clouds of color overhanging the driveway. Maybe this will be the year… The gardeners perpetual cry of optimism. As the humidity and temperatures climb I am finally forced to face the possibility of summer. I’ve been able to put it out of my mind while the cool nights and clear days persisted, the present being so much better than anything else I could imagine. Now I will cling to the idea that plants like warmth and therefore sun. Not our July/August sun but they will respond to longer days and warmer temperatures for a few months before we all get fried.

A little rain at least.

It's been dark and threatening all day with the feel of rain in the air. We have not had much rain this winter and every little bit is welcomed by me and all the gardeners I know. We did get some fairly heavy rain today but not for long, and although I can hear water rushing down the creek I doubt we had more than 2 inches. But the spring flowers will respond to every little bit and they are bursting with buds that just haven't quite come out yet. Some that have are below.

These Bletilla striata (Chinese Ground Orchids) I first saw at Mayfield Gardens and loved. It took several tries but I've finally got them to start blooming. When my Byzantine Gladiolus bloom they will have a similar color. I seem to have various shades of purple blooming at present, which suits me as I'm fond of that color. I hope the Betilla last until the Byzantine Gladiolus blooms.



Here is a not very good photograph of some freesia's that decided to bloom this year. I must have planted these bulbs about three years ago and some tragedy (hail, dogs, etc) seems to destroy them each year. But this year they seem to like either 1) the amended soil, 2) the lack of rain 3) or the mild temperatures (cross fingers), I'm not sure which. It could just be that they have finally settled in and decided to make my garden home. I hope so as they are a beautiful soft mauve color and people who don't suffer from allergies tell me that they have a lovely scent.

I'm looking forward to a little cooler temperatures and I hope sun tomorrow. My Iris are looking rather bedraggled at present but they always seem to perk up when the weather suits them. I am in sympathy with them as I've noticed the same thing in myself.

How I got here.

My front yard last year. I had been trying to establish a garden for the previous three years and had finally defined the beds and reduced the lawn by about a third. I have been trying to work with the soil already there partly out of a desire to see if I could and partly to save money, as it would cost a fortune to truck in dirt. I still have quite a lot of St. Augustine grass and my plan is to enlarge the beds at a later date.

I am located just east of Mopac and north of 45th Street in the Rosedale area of Austin. I, and my garden are sitting on a solid limestone ledge covered with black clay, no deeper than ten inches and frequently shallower. I collected every bag of leaves I could find two years ago and had a huge compost heap mostly composed of leaves. Luckily the wet summer help decompose the compost pretty quickly so that I could put wheelbarrow loads of the stuff on every bed. Added to that was a load of horse manure, decomposed granite and when I planted, a yoghurt pot of peat moss. Gradually the soil is looking better and after loosing about fifty percent of all my plantings I've got a much better average. At least ninety percent of my plants survive. I'm still trying to get that established look where the plants cover all the dirt and beds look as if they're errupting out of the garden. I live in hope.

This is another view of my garden which shows my front walkway and my hardscape of decomposed granite and concrete pavers with river rocks to soften the edges. At the moment I have the front garden and one side of the house pretty well organized, it just needs filling in as I come across suitable plants. I still have the back garden and the other side of the house to get established.