the miserable gardener

I rarely (actually, never) watch the news, figuring it’s bad for my psyche, but I did catch the business about the new watering restrictions last night. Okay, I’ll play along, as usual.

If half the plants in the back yard die from lack of water (either from the sky or hose), big deal. I’ll just plant something else. If I lived in a place like California I’d be replacing all the water hogs with native plants that are adapted to summer drought, and never look back. In some ways, I would really like to have the whole garden be on the same watering schedule as the front yard (that is, never), but, like a lot of gardeners, I have this problem. I want the garden filled with plants, and unless I start duplicating or triplicating what I already have, there aren’t many things left to choose from.

Maybe the upcoming plant sale (oh, there went my pulse …) at DBG, hosted by the Rocky Mountain Chapter of the North American Rock Garden Society (RMCNARGS for short, thankfully) this weekend will have something I never dreamed of, that I never knew I needed or wanted. The sale always does. Members only, tomorrow evening. Note to self: put credit card in wallet.

Changing the subject slightly, Iris missouriensis is blooming, for the first time in its new, third location. It was in a wetter spot before that, but recalling what Barr wrote about the plant, it seems to do okay with what’s called “regular” watering around here (meaning, when I remember), though in real life the iris is much happier growing in bogs or fens.

Which is where it first grew. In the fens in South Park, just off the Boreas Pass Road. Really a stunning sight to seem them in full bloom. I collected some seed one year, and even dug up a plant in the middle of the road. I’ve never done this before or since, but the poor thing had just been flattened by an SUV, so I rescued it. Why didn’t its parents tell it not to germinate in the road? Darwinism in reverse. But maybe the supposedly dumb plant, the one I rescued, will be the only survivor, along with the ones I grew from seed, and the fens will be drained and trophy homes built on the graves of ten thousand irises.

I got a mystery agave. It was pretty big, with the wrong label, and of uncertain hardiness. The thing is so attractive that my first thought of planting it out to see what might happen gave way to my second thought, that it could stay in a pot, and come outside when it was needed for decorative purposes.

Potting up large agaves, especially ones with more than their fair share of long spines, is not something you just go and do, it’s something you do almost in slow motion. Always aware of where you are in relation to those spines.

And since it was going into the intense sunlight at this elevation, with a third more ultraviolet than at sea level, it needed a little protection from the sun for its first week or so outside. (I don’t know how long that takes; usually it takes one day longer than you think.) Even agaves, yuccas, etc., that come from nurseries in Tucson and Phoenix will fry in Denver’s sun if they don’t get time to adjust to it. I usually just spray the plants with CloudCover (seems to work), and plant them, or build a little tent out of shade cloth and bamboo stakes, but this time I thought burlap would be a good idea.

Well, the burlap is on, as is evident. Removing it will be a different story.