The Famous Jardines Botanicos de Vallarta

While in Mexico, I had the opportunity to tour the Vallarta Botanical Gardens. There are nearly 80 acres of lush tropical foliage—most of it native-- at 1,300 feet above sea level, located about an hour outside of Puerto Vallarta. The rich diversity of flora and fauna-- most of which I didn’t even come close to recognizing—was mind boggling. And the colors were enough to put Pantone to shame!   

Everything was so lush and exuberant in its growth … it was a shock to recognize things I had only grown as small house plants looking more like “old growth” in their native environment.

Look Ma!  Free-range House Plants!

 And even the zinnias seemed to be on steroids.

The Botanical gardens also serve as a bird sanctuary. We observed hummingbirds and several species of jays feeding among the flowers. There were some spectacularly colored blackbirds with yellow patches on their shoulders, but even more yellow when they unfolded their wings to fly. Unfortunately, they were a bit camera shy and I didn’t get a good photo of them.

The Guinea hens where a different matter. Intent on some sort of mating ritual that seemed to include zigging and zagging around visitor’s legs, the Guinea hens were the opposite of shy. We had to keep from tripping over them.

But you don’t have to travel to the gardens to see spectacular floral displays. This was just a random tree, shading random street parking:

Thawed and Confused, Again

 I have a confession to make. I am an incurable optimist. Every year as soon as New Year’s celebrations are completed and the confetti has been swept up, once whatever snow we have had has melted I immediately assume that THIS YEAR we are going to have an early spring. If I’m outside, and a breeze wafts by that doesn’t freeze my nose off my face, I start wondering if I have any gas in my lawn mower, because clearly, I’m going to need to start mowing my grass. Probably as soon as next week!

Over it.
Next!

Reality doesn’t matter. Who cares if it’s still January—I’m pretty sure that’s the sun I see. And if you can see the sun, summer can’t be that far off. And summer means flowers, and gardening, and trips to the beach, and camping, and fireworks, and flip-flops and bees. Did I eat all the s’mores chocolate? Where do you suppose I put the sunblock?

Every year I am convinced that this year is the year. Every year I am surprised—nay, SHOCKED, shocked, I say-- when the snow and bone chilling cold return before I’ve located my lotion. I did not see that coming--who knew January could be so cold? 

I turn my hopes to February. Surely February will herald the return of spring, we’ll probably see the first robin right around Valentine’s Day. I can use my Valentine’s chocolate for s’mores, hooray!

That’s the beauty of optimism, it needn’t be fact based. In fact, if it IS fact based, I’m not sure that it qualifies as optimism—it’s FACT. Optimism is more ethereal, like hope. And as Emily Dickinson once wrote “Hope is a thing with feathers.” I think she meant a robin. Hello Spring!

Expect this in my garden--next week.
Probably. 

Garden? Growing

My straw bale garden is coming along quite well. My peas survived the convection oven blast we had in June—I covered them with shade cloth and managed to keep most of them. 

I also planted tomatoes, peppers, carrots, beans, fingerling potato, and eight zucchini plants—I know! I can explain... The first zucchini I planted rotted. So, I started a second planting in little pots, and only half germinated. But those that grew were doing quite well—until they weren’t. Slugs found them and decimated my entire crop of starts in a single night. By this time, it’s mid-June and I have only nine seeds left. I’m afraid I’ll be the only person in North America that can’t grow zucchini—how embarrassing! 

Desperate people do desperate things; I planted all nine seeds in three “hills” on the side of my straw bales, forgetting two important things. One: what happens if all nine survive? And Two: zucchini don’t trail the way pumpkins and cukes do. Zucchinis tend to grow in a big old clump—and I had planted NINE OF THEM. 

Slugs chopped off one early one, literally “nipping it in the bud,” but the other eight keep on growing. And growing. And—well if you’ve ever planted zucchini you can imagine what my garden looks like. Between the pumpkins that are once again bent on neighborhood domination, and the zucchini –well, it’s pretty difficult to see the forest for all the squash trees. You’ll just have to take my word for it that there are carrots and peppers, et al, in the midst of squash-a-ganza. 

 

My flowers are still losing the battle with slugs, but if you didn’t know what it was INTENDED to look like, some of my pots are quite pretty. 

                                                                And I have blueberries!

Tah-Dah!

Procrastination, Eventually

 I can’t remember what my opening sentence was going to be about because instead of typing it, I got up and got a handful of peanut butter M&Ms. Buy the time I got back to the keyboard the idea I had had melted away...the chocolate of ideas melts in your brain... if you don’t have words in your hand-- worth two in the bush? Brain? ---strike that. That’s lame. Let me try again.

Every week I intend to write my column in a timely manner. “Timely” often ends up being one of those “eye of the beholder” flexible words; it means different things to different people. I have yet to decide on a final definition. Procrastinating on defining “timely”—classic Sue!

I’m also procrastinating in other areas. I’m rather embarrassed to admit that here we are, up to our eyeballs in April, and I have only purchased two—that’s right T-W-O—flowers. Usually, by the end of April, I have a couple of boxes full of tender blooms sheltering on my porch, waiting for the last of the frost to move on so I can safely plant them in my pots and baskets and beds. Two flowers—nemesia “Babycakes’; three tomato plants, two sweet peppers, one Poblano pepper, and fistful of seed packets for my straw bales comprises the totality of my plant purchases for 2021.

Sigh. I think I have Spring Fever. I can’t seem to settle on a task for long without wandering outside—between rain showers—and looking at all the growing things. It’s an on-going argument with myself not to hop in the car and go on an epic nursery tour...First I’ll stop at DeGoedes and wander thru the green houses, then on to Bennie’s Gardens in Chehalis/Napavine. Perhaps a quick stop at Adna Floral, before hitting up Sun Birds garden department...Any hardware store, 4H plant sale, or garden club I pass on the way by is also fair game. Please, take my money-- I must have all the pretties.

If my travels take me south, I’ll swing in to Tsugawa Nursery in Woodland. North, and I’ll find my way to Windmill Gardens in Sumner. But why go home yet—I’m this close to Flower World in Maltby, might as well keep on going. If you don’t know where Maltby is I’ll bet your Siri does. Ask her, she’s quite the enabler and Flower World is worth “getting around to.”

 Eventually.

Garden Q & A, Part Two of a Zillion

 Last week Sue answered some questions that new gardeners--or gardeners new to our area--often ask.

 Don’t ask me why she’s referring to herself in the third person. No one knows. Perhaps she thinks it sounds more professional?

Q: What about planting “stinky” plants, like lilies, or lilacs, or lavendar?

A: Sometimes it works--elk will avoid highly fragrant flowers. Sometimes an elk comes along that has gone “nose blind” to the smell and then it’s bye-bye to your lovely lilies—even though they were in full bloom.

Q: What about bulbs in a container close to the house?

A: That’s an excellent way to try to minimize elk damage to your plants. It also helps if that plant/container isn’t already on their route to and from their favorite salad bar. Spray Invisible Fencing around and try playing talk radio near your container. Elk have a heck of a learning curve-- but sometimes double/tripling up on your defenses can stymie them. For a while.

Q: What can I do to keep elk out of my garden? I’ve heard good things about Invisible Fence/ Plantskyyd/ stinky rotten egg and garlic spray/ eye of newt and toe of frog*/ Irish Spring soap-on-a-rope/ hair from my hair brush/ a barking dog/a  playing radio all night/ if my kids pees on my plants? Will that keep elk away from my gardens?                                                                                                            

Day one: look at all the flowers!

A: I have tried all those methods—except the frog/newt one—and they all work!

 

Until they don’t.

 

Several years ago we were holding a wedding in the back yard and I was alternating spraying Invisible Fencing (smells of garlic and rotten eggs) and Plantskyyd (made up of what looks to be powdered blood—and smells like fetid carnivore breath) I was alternating them every week—which is a more frequent application than the packaging calls for but I was taking no chances. We managed to get to and thru the late July Big Day with only some minor damage to some outlying wildflower beds. The following week, however, was a different story. Even if your garden survives most of the summer —late summer is when elk turn in to ravenous demon spawn—all bets are off, all items are on the menu. 

Day Two: Look at all the nubs!
Elk damage over night
after a successful summer of keeping them out.
Nothing will stop elk when they have the fall munchies.

A Toast to Love

The wedding was—as most weddings are—magical. Big or small, in pandemic or in prosperity, it is the love that matters; not the location, or the guest list or—sorry Philip—even the beauty of the flowers. It is the love that shines thru and illuminates the day, that is both the beginning, and the end, of everything. Love is both magic and miracle.

And so it was that the tasks were accomplished, the flowers were arranged, the guests arrived. Pictures were taken, vows were exchanged, happy tears shed. We feasted, we toasted, we danced.

Florals by Philip

This wedding completes the Sume Family Trifecta. All three boys are now married to their Beloveds. All three have chosen amazing young women, all three have joined families that are warm and welcoming. I often say that it was not my place to choose their brides—but if it was? I couldn’t have done any better. As the mother of only sons, I have long waited for this last shot to have daughters. I’m feeling pretty pleased with myself for having such great women in my life; all without having had the expense of prom dresses and the trauma of my inability to create “princess hair.” Genius move, on my part.

I have a small suspicion that my boys might have made a friendly wager to see who could get me to shed the most tears during the festivities. Was the winner Cameron, when during each rehearsal walk down a long hillside to the wedding arbor, told me of all the things he adores about his Bride? He told me how long he had waited for this day, how happy he was that it had finally come, and how he looked forward to their future together.

Or was it Jordan, who recited a private toast in my ear? Recalling family moments and jokes, perfectly balancing laughter and tears, toasting my past and future role as “Mom.”

Maybe it was Devin, who undertook his best man duties with such serious joy, making sure that all went well for his twin. Devin who supported his wife Staci’s role of both bridesmaid, wedding coordinator, and mom of Baby Aiden. My heart rejoices to see such partnerships, and some of that can’t help but leak out my eyes.

As for myself—I did not make a toast at the wedding, but I offer one now. It is my favorite, all-purpose Sume Toast and I share it with you. “Here’s to the Love that began us, here’s to the Love between us, and here’s to the Love that multiplies us. Here’s to Love!”

Here's to Love!

Beth and Cameron

 

Field Notes

Yesterday I got a call from a co-worker (Hi Haze!) asking me where I filed this week’s Garden Gate because she couldn’t find it.

Uh, well....

It’s because I forgot, uh I’m lazy, er-- I’m too busy playing with my grandkids over the weekend, I’m babysitting, I’m shopping for plants, BUY ALL THE PLANTS, “It’s because I’m doing field research,” I told her. “I’ve been out doing extensive field research on local nurseries. And as soon as I get home and review my ‘field notes’,  I’ll write up my Garden Gate and send it right along.”

Because Haze is a nice person, she laughed and pretended to believe me. Or, maybe she pretended to laugh, and actually believed me; either way-- as I’ve said-- nice.

It’s true I did have a busy weekend, and a short stint Monday morning of Essential Work/Babysitting Aiden. It is also true that I may have stopped at every nursery on the way home. It is also true that I may have purchased new plants. It’s really not my fault.

When even the neighbors dog is judging you...

I mean—I know I don’t technically need any plants—but I didn’t have a petunia in that particular shade. Then of course I had to buy some companion plants for it because I can’t just put it in a pot all by its lonesome, now can I. Note to self: buy more pots.

Then there was the beautiful patio rose called “Mango Veranda” in the most glorious shades of, well, mango, and HOW COULD I NOT?!

It’s not my fault that DeGoedes is on my route home. It is also not my fault that they have excellent prices, and healthy plants, and oh my gosh would you look at how cool---

Anyway, I maxed out my car’s capacity, and I have a bunch of plants to plant, and if you think I’m going to review my “field notes”—AKA credit card receipts—you have another think coming. NEVER LEAVE A PAPER TRAIL is my mantra. So if you’ll excuse me, the dirt is calling my name...