Night Blooming Cereus wiggling its toes (not visible) in the warm Arizona soil. After 18 months in a shallow container (and 5 inc hes of new growth) it will be fun to see what spring and summer bring. It has been a good winter… 4 inches of rain, and only a couple of frosts. I’m expecting good things from the wildflowers, the weeds, and the penstemons and their cousins the snapdragons.

Why haven’t I been blogging? At first I didn’t know the answer, but then I uploaded the above photo of a newly transplanted echinopsis. It is betwist and between a couple of agaves. And it’s quite possible you can’t make that out because the resolution of the iPhone isn’t up to snuff for a garden blog. And, that must be why I haven’t been blogging… without superior pics the words just dried up.

Several efforts this winter to move container palnts into good spots in the ground. I’ll let you know if this Echinopsis x. Los Angeles enjoys the more spacious digs. (arh arh)

This guy is a Target special. He came as a single pad in a 4 inch pot, and branched out from there. The flower itself could be covered by a nickel. It seems to put out one single flower from the top of each new grown pad, and then goes about making a new pad as well. What kind of Opuntia is it? I’ll send Texas Ebony Seeds to the first person that identifies it for me.

Here’s a recent pic from the patio. The Adenium is in bloom, and unlike the cactus this one has been open for 4 days and counting. Last year it was just sticks in the winter, leafed out in March, but that was it. This year I brought it indoors to be dormant for winter, and then applied the weekly 10-55-10 (high phosphorus) feedings. There are additional buds too. I saw one of these at Desert Botanical Garden at the Spring Plant Sale and it was 5 feet tall. So my little patio plant probably has 15 years of catching up to do?

I inherited a healthy “grove” of pine cone cacti that had been nurtured with love in Chandler. I think I scared them into bloom. Some sporadic watering, and occasional feeding with some high phosphorus fertilizer, and they decided it was now or never. The blooms last just one day; maybe 36 hours. It was triple lucky that these three buds decided to open on the same day this week. Life is good.

This is a Passion Flower, sometimes called MayPop. I’ve have four buds open so far in April and they don’t last much longer than a day. So in Tempe it is an AprilPop I guess. When I look at the complexity of the blossom– 5 anthers, 3 pistils, and the lacy tendrils of flower petals — it makes me realize how little science knows about how things make themselves, and how very little I know about what few things science knows. Just for one example, the coloring on the structure that supports the anthers looks like leopard spots. Something about those colors probably gives the flower an advantage over others in attracting the ideal insect. How does the flower’s DNA do that? and how does it even get access to and made use of the compounds that make one part ivory colored and the other rusty brown? Not only do I not know, I have a suspish that no one knows. Miracle! Every spring!

We have the cactus league here in Tempe, and just about the time the balls start flying over the fences we get the beginning blossoms of Spring. I uploaded a gaggle of pics to flickr. Check out the set that says LHIT March 2007.

The picture above is from a globe mallow plant I bought at the Desert Botanical Garden’s plant sale this time last year. It was a one gallon sproutling last spring, and now it is a cubic yard of bursting buds under my Chilean Mesquite. This pic shows some of the first opened flowers. I like the shadow that the pistil casts on the flower petals. That proves I sometimes do get up early in the morning. Just in case anyone was wondering.

This morning I have planted what I call the “leggy garden”. I had 5 tomato plants that stayed on the indoor light table for 6-8 weeks. They got to be about 12 inches tall and kind of spindly. Their brothers, that I set outside in January, are more compact and darker green with more leaves. So, out in cobble stone corner I dug 5 deep holes and buried two thirds of each plant. I wonder if they will end up surpassing their more handsome siblings in time… Stay tuned.

4 years ago, I didn’t know what a Kalanchoe was, and now I am fairly deeply enamored with them. I have these species at the Little House.
Tomentosa – Rusty Edges on Fuzzy Leaves
Beharensis v. Fang – Also called the “stalactite” Kalenchoe
Orgyalis – I thought it was hovering near death for a full year, and then it put out new growth of the same “near dead, sorta brown” leaves. All the internet pics look like mine, so I think we’re good.
Daigremontiana – Mother of Thousands
Thrysiflora – Pancake Plant
Tubiflora – aka “Frog legs”
These are the varieties I have been growing so far. My daughter likes them because they are the first plants that have resisted her unintentional herbicidal tendencies. I like them because (except for our freaky frosty January) then grow quietly, make new copies of themselves, and even bloom sometimes. And the little plantlets of daigremontiana and tubiflora are just a propagator’s dream.

If you’ve been growing weary of your spiny cacti, give the K-crew a try.

Last night was the coldest night at Sky Harbor in 16 years, and by reliable accounts it was 28 degrees at my house this morning. Though covered, many of my sensitive plants look like they took it on the chin. I have a suddenly wilty Kalanchoe Beharensis, the elephant food leaves look dull instead of glossy, and about half of my peppers look like steamed spinach. This was some serious chill.

Master Gardeners told me in class that “we aren’t growing plants, we are growing roots. Then the roots grow plants.” If true, some of my plants will bounce back. Still it is a setback, and makes me feel guilty. Many would say I had no business having peppers outside in January. Some years it works, some years it doesn’t. I did have an anaheim chile plant endure several light frosts and thrive for five years overall. It had good roots.

In a weird way, this makes me all the more eager for March. The plumeria will leaf out again, along with the Adenium, pomegranate, and grape. It will be exciting and reassuring. For tonight, I wish I could invite them all in for a cup of tea.