A Marina Bay Garden

I’ve merged my older “A Central Florida Garden” site with the current “Marina Bay Garden” to create Bill’s Garden. As a result, I’ll be taking this site down in the next few weeks.

I hope you enjoy the new Web site.

I hate to trim my garden. I can handle tip pinching, but the wholesale mayhem of cutting plants almost to the ground – no way. I work months to get my plants to grow big and strong, then Winter comes and, like some possessed ax murderer, I’m supposed to cut them all back to pathetic stumps, so I can start all over again in the Spring. What sense is there in that?

Then there is the even harder act of taking a plant that you have slaved over for months and forcing yourself to admit that it is a helpless cause. The plant has to go.

Tough love. Maybe it’s easy for professional gardeners to hack away, but me – I have a hard time bringing out the garden shears, much less the shovel. I grow things, not kill things.

Enough whining. Winter is winding down and it’s time.

We’ll start with the Fuchsia Nettala. It’s become a fantastic center piece of the garden, sending out deep red flowers for six months. But it’s now January and it’s lost most of its leaves and only a few, forlorn flowers remain. It’s time to cut. Or is it? I spent hours on the Web looking for advice as to when and how much to cut – with no luck. In desperation I went to Annie’s Annuals (where I had bought the Nettala almost a year ago) and asked for help. Janine and Annie couldn’t have been more helpful. The instructions were simple – cut them to knee length and do it now.

Marching orders in hand, out came the shears and I cut away.

Now comes the uncomfortable period of waiting. Was I too ruthless? It will be months before I know.

Man, I hope this works. I’ll keep the diary for the Netalla updated on the progress.

Next project – the Salvia Dorisiana. No doubt, it is a fascinating plant, especially the citrus/pineapple smell given off by the leaves. When you cut a branch and disturb the leaves, the whole garden is consumed with a striking aroma.

The problem – it flowers only intermittently and it’s large – spreading to 5′ tall by 4′ wide. It just doesn’t fit within a small cottage garden. I hate to do it, but it needs to go.

Now, what do I put in it’s place?

I walk or bike along the San Francisco Bay Trail almost every day. While the views are spectacular, I’m often dismayed by the trash that has washed up along the shore and how powerless I am to stop it. So when I saw a sign up sheet for a Coastal Cleanup Day in Marina Bay I quickly volunteered. This was a chance to act.

The experience was a revelation. I knew there was a lot of trash along the shoreline, but I had never taken the time to look closely at what was actually there. Virtually every square foot along the mud flats and marsh areas held a frightening amount of decaying styrofoam cups, potato chip bags, bottle caps, and plastic bags. If you simply turned over the top layer of dead twigs and leaves you found a wealth of trash underneath that had been hidden there for years.

I’ve heard stories of the Great Pacific Garbage Patch or Pacific Trash Vortex that is north of the Hawaiian Islands. It seems like a remote, almost fictional place that is somebody else’s problem. How am I going to be able to do anything about minute pieces of plastic floating in a circle 500 miles from the nearest land?

Then I looked down at my feet and there was my own personal vortex of plastic. I found myself first picking up the obvious junk and then slowly rummaging through the brush to find the little pieces of styrofoam. There was no way I was going to let this trash be washed out into the Bay and then carried out into the Pacific to float aimlessly for decades.

It was a sobering experience.

My original intent with the garden was to only grow flowers. I figured that I just didn’t have the space for fruits or vegetables. That changed when I dropped by Annie’s Annuals in the Spring and saw an assortment of various tomatoes that were adapted for the colder summers we have close to the Coast. On a whim I bought an semi-determinate tomato called ‘Spike’ partly because of its interesting color – black with green stripes.

I’ve not been completely successful caring for ‘Spike’ during the past few months and I really did not have any high expectations based on the difficult growing climate for heat loving tomatoes. But after 5 months in the container ‘Spike’ is producing like gangbusters and reminding yet again of the surprises you can find with gardening.

I’m usually a very forgiving gardener. If a plant does not do well, I’m quick to blame myself and give the plant a second, third, fourth … chance. I’ve kept sickly plants around for years trying to find a way to coax a flower or two from them. I also spend an inordinate amount of time moving plants from one place to the other to find a location where they will thrive. I will do anything to keep from having to rip out plants.

What I did not realize is that my new garden does not promote patience or forgiveness. With a limited amount of space and most of the plants sitting right outside my windows, there are limited opportunities to hide my mistakes. It is as if every plant is in the spotlight. While in the past I would have easily lived with a plant that produced only a few inconspicuous flowers or tried to tolerate an aggressive spreading shrub that did not play well with others, I find that I no longer can be so forgiving. Either the plant performs spectacularly or out it goes.

A good example is the Salvia dorisiana that I planted against the garden fence. I had had some success with Salvia coccinea in my Florida butterfly garden, and I thought I could repeat the experience here in Richmond with another Salvia. I was also intrigued by the lemon/pineapple scent given off by the leaves of this Salvia. I’ve taken a lot of pleasure in giving garden tours to friends and telling them to tear off a leaf, crush it in their fingers and then smell their hand. I love to see the surprise on their faces.

The problem is that the this variety of Salvia is far too large for the garden. I had expected that it would be a subtle backdrop along the fence that would highlight  the smaller, more colorful flowers that I planted in front. Instead, it has overpowered all of its neighbors and disrupted the perspective. I tried tip pinching to control its height, but with little success.

I’ll likely rip this plant out at the end of the season. It has seized a significant portion of the garden without producing many flowers or providing any significant visual effect. It would likely do well in a larger garden, especially beside a path where people could easily pick off a leaf. However, I don’t have the luxury of enough space to accommodate it. I will have to stifle my belief that all plants should be given every chance to survive and rip it out like a cold executioner.

I also planted another Salvia – the Salvia vanhouttei with similar results. It now stands 4 – 5′ tall and blocks out part of the view from the dining room. With only a few flowers and an open, spindly growth, it takes up far too much room for such a sparse producer. It will also disappear this Fall.

Finally, there is the Campanula primulifolia. I have no complaints about the flowers. It has sent out enormous stalks with beautiful purple flowers. But as with several of the larger plants in my garden, it is a constant battle to keep the long stems upright in the constant wind that flows through this area in the Summer. I’ve tried staking and yards of  garden tape with only moderate success. In a larger garden with tamer winds this plant would do exceptionally well, but in my garden its days are numbered.

This year has been one of those sobering experiences when I have learned my limitations as a gardener – over and over again. And ‘Spike’ seems to be the perfect metaphor for this experience.

I knew when I started out with my new garden in December of 2009 that I would have to experiment with which flowers did well in this area and how I should properly care for them. But I’ve been gardening for years, many of them in climates very similar to the one I’m currently live in. So I expected a few bumps in the road, not the road strewn with bottomless potholes that ultimately confronted me. For example, I’ve grown tomatoes successfully in several of my gardens, so I didn’t think I was taking on a major risk when I purchased a ‘Spike” tomato from Annie’s Annuals.

I bought an extra large 10″ pot, planted ‘Spike’ with plenty of fresh potting soil and put the tomato in the sunniest spot in the garden. The pot seemed more than adequate, especially since ‘Spike’ is an indeterminate tomato that does not require as much container space as a determinate variety.  Look at the picture to the left. The pot seems to be almost too large for the plant. Surely, the size of the pot was adequate.

For the first two months ‘Spike’ did extremely well, setting dozens of fruit and happily basking in the sun. And then things started to get ugly. It gets breezy in my garden and on a couple of occasions in early July I had to reset the pot after it had blown over.  Then one day in mid July ‘Spike’ fell over and couldn’t get up. It had grown so top heavy that the weight of the pot was no longer enough to keep the plant upright. I tried adding some extra stakes and even securing the tomato to the house, all to no avail. In desperation I had to resort to the embarrassing solution of propping up ‘Spike” with one of my lawn chairs. The chair does temporarily address the issue, but I’ve got a much bigger problem – I way underestimated the proper size for the pot.

So the one thing I have definitely learned is that if I plant another ‘Spike’ next year, the pot will have to be at least twenty inches in diameter.

One of the hard lessons I’ve learned this year is that I’m not good with subtle. BOLD – yes. Subtle – no. I just can’t deal well with soft pastel colors like peach or pink. I just don’t have the eye to combine them properly and most of them get lost in the chatter of primary colors that dominate the garden.

Take the verbascum hybrid ‘Southern Charm’. It has beautiful, subtle pink blooms on 2′ to 3′ stalks. What did I do with it? I planted it against a white picket fence and surrounded it with deep blue and red flowers, such as the delphinium belladonna ‘Bellamosum’.

The result was a hodgepodge of colors with the verbascum fading into the background.

Granted, there is not a lot of continuity or symmetry in my garden right now as I experiment with all the endless possibilities. But it is becoming clearer that I’m more comfortable with deep reds and blues along with stark whites and bright yellows. So the delphinium will definitely be back next year in greater numbers, but the verbascum will likely be thrown out.

Then there are the “weird” colors, the ones that just stand out too much. The begonia boliviensis to the left has a profusion of startlingly bright orange blooms that invite you to pick up the pot and see the flowers up close. There is no way I can put this flower in an arrangement with other plants. First, I have no idea what plants would complement this begonia and, even if I did have the color sense, I’m sure the plant would completely overwhelm anything near it.

In this case I’m happy to put the begonia on a pedestal and show it off as a specimen flower to be admired on its own.

Yesterday morning I dropped off some letters in the mailbox and then walked back to my home. I stopped for a moment at the garden gate to admire the fuchsia I planted beside the fence (see “Wow” below). I casually put my hand on top of a fence post and just stood quietly looking at the flowers.  After awhile I noticed a small green hummingbird feeding on the fuchsia blooms a few feet away.  To my amazement the bird slowly made its way towards me until it was happily feeding on some flowers right in front of me. For about fifteen seconds the hummingbird was flying inches from my hand, so close I could feel the wind from its wings.

And again I am reminded that there is far more to gardening than just pretty flowers or fresh vegetables.

I was a concerned when I planted the Fuchsia Nettala back in December. I was afraid that there would not be enough sun for the vine to thrive and that the white flies would feast on its leaves. I was also concerned that I was placing this vine directly outside the living room window in the most prominent place in the garden. If the Fuchsia did poorly, it would take the whole garden down with it.

When the first flowers appeared in June I was happy that it was producing at least a few blooms. It was not a total failure. And then in July the Fuchsia went into overdrive. It has sent out an astounding profusion of deep red flowers that catch the eye of everyone who passes by the garden. Wow!

Bush Ladybells are a staple in my garden. They initially produce a profusion of 2′ to 3′ tall stalks of lavender blue flowers that last for several weeks (great for cutting). After the initial display, I cut back the stalks, which then are replaced with smaller 6″ to 1′ tall stalks. So far, they have been in bloom for three months.

The only fault I can find with Bush Ladybells is that the lavender hue isn’t dark enough for my taste.