why I don't have garden visitors

 


I was thinking today while mulching my roses, that I don’t like having garden visitors. I mean, I like having people over and entertaining. But I don’t like people touring my garden. It’s not meant for visitors. My garden is meant for me.
    I frequently get people asking me to see my garden. I share photos of flowers on social media and people want to see my garden. I have a master’s degree in Landscape Architecture, and when people learn this, they want me to give them a tour of my garden. Of course, they also want me to give them free advice on what to do with their garden. But when they want to see my garden, I tell them, “It’s really not that kind of garden.” My spouse usually intervenes, and says “it’s not a designed garden, it’s just a collection.” Which is is not really true. It is intensely designed, just not designed as I would if I were designing for a client, or for a public space. It’s designed to be a space for me to collect plants. It’s not designed as a botanic garden. It’s not designed as a plaza. It’s not a public garden meant for people to stroll through and “take in” the flowers. It’s not a showpiece. What it is, is a private garden. As such there are inherent qualities that make me dread having garden visitors. And let me be specific. When I say “garden visitor” I don’t mean “visitor” or “guest.” I mean someone who specifically wanted to see my garden. Well, I guess they can be the same thing at times.
    The first words from a garden visitor’s mouth can tell me if the rest of the visit is going to go badly. Often it is “Your garden is not what I expected.” So, being the polite host, I take the bait, and say “What did you expect?” They say “I don’t know, but not this.” It would be different if it was a delighted comment, but I find the comment and the facial expression to be unfathomable. At this point, I usually want to say, “Okay, well you can leave now.” Or, “Well I warned you, that it’s not designed as a public space.” And they say, “I know, it’s just not what I expected.” Why do people have expectations? Why would you go to someone’s home and expect…something? And worse, why would you tell your host that you are disappointed or disillusioned?
    I had one visitor come to my garden and say “Your plants look weird.” I let it go for a while, and they said nothing more. I looked at my plants, they looked fine to me. They looked healthy. They weren’t diseased. They weren’t pruned into weird poodles. In the silence that followed, I said, “Oh, okay.” The visitor just repeated himself, “they just look weird.” Not knowing what to say, I asked “Why?” He said, “they just don’t look like your usual plants.” Okay, that’s true. At the time, I didn’t grow many common plants at all.
    Another visitor was enthralled with my roses. She seized one that had just opened and exclaimed how beautiful it was. I’m good with that. Then she started stroking the rose, And when I mean stroking the flower, I mean stroking. Like running her fingers over the face of the flower. Strongly. Until the petals became bruised and fell off. Finally she looked around and looked for another to destroy. Now this is a friend that I love dearly, but this was very strange behavior to me. I quickly showed her through the garden, moving her on before she could molest another flower.
    Recently, some relatives came to visit. The husband decided to take a jog around the garden. There is a concrete border of sorts around the garden 8” or so wide, but it is not meant to be a path, but a mowing border (I have taken out the lawn). It is not continuous and at one point there are boulders interrupting it. It was installed before I moved in, and instead of the expense of removing a large concrete border, I left it. He complained that this path is not good for his walk and that the boulders are in the way.  He promptly stepped on some of my plants which were in his way. I said, “Please watch where you are stepping, there are some plants under your feet.” He said “Oh, and stepped back, onto some other plants that I had been coddling along. “They’ll grow back,” he said. When my mother was visiting, she was helping me as I pruned back the Perovskia. As she was wandering around picking up prunings, I pointed out a small agave. “Don’t step on that,” I said. “What?” she said, walking toward me and directly onto the agave, destroying the perfect leaves. I’m surprised it didn’t puncture her foot. Better the agave get damaged than her I guess. But that damaged leaf is going to be there for the long life of agave leaves and will bug me every time I see it. Visitors always find something to destroy while they visit. Frequently they step on something, then back up and step on something else. It’s not a garden for visitors. When I go through my garden, I navigate my way around my garden because I know the way, and it’s not on top of plants. Sometimes visitors pick a flower to look at and toss it aside when they are done. Some people pull a bunch of leaves or flowers off a plant, rub it between their hands, take a whiff and then toss the remains. Without so much as a “mother may I?” Why would you do that in someone else’s garden?. I consider this a violation of garden visitor etiquette. Yep, visitors destroy things. 
    The wife of the man complaining that there was no jogging path said, “I saw those little cacti in your garden and I wanted to pull them out.” Which brings up another topic. Why do garden visitors always want to give advice? It frequently starts with “You know what your garden needs?” The hair on my neck go up at that point. Some people just flat out say “Your garden needs…” One person said “vegetables.” Another said “sculpture.” Another said “more color.” I want to say, “I don’t know, it’s seems perfect just how it is, to me. Good thing it’s my garden and not yours.” One person pointed out that there was a space where a plant had died. “There’s a plant missing” they said. “Yes, someone stepped on it,” I said. As I said, my garden is not for visitors, it’s for me.

dittany of crete and cascading oreganos

Mid-season flowers on Origanum dictamnus

As the season progresses, the bracts become longer and longer.

Bracts are frequently described as hop-like.

Today involved more cleanup, and this included the Dittany of Crete. Most people don't know what Dittany of Crete is, or if they do, they associate it with the Harry Potter books, where Hermione used Essence of Dittany to help heal Ron's splinching injury. But that dittany may have been Dictamnus albus (also known as gas plant) rather than Dittany of Crete which is Origanum dictamnus. There are a number of the cascading type of ornamental oreganos (as opposed to the upright types), and I've grown a number of them, but my favorite is Dittany of Crete. It's not commonly sold in this area, which is unfathomable to me, but it is not as hardy as some other oreganos, and the Sunset Western Garden book does list zone 10 (Albuquerque) as being appropriate for this plant. And yet, it has survived in my gardens for nearly 20 years.

Lantern-like bracts on 'Kent Beauty'

More commonly found here is Origanum rotundifolium 'Kent Beauty' which is indeed a beauty in bloom, with large lime green lantern-like bracts tinted with rose, and a compact cascading form. It is stoloniferous, and will spread in standard rich garden soils. The leaves are smooth and light green,  and cut or crushed smell strongly of oregano. The plant is deciduous, dying to the ground in the winter.  I grew this plant for a number of years in this garden, but it did not survive being neglected in a xeric location. I would happily grow it again though.

Early season Origanum libanoticum looking like earrings

In my climate the bracts quickly turn to brown rattlesnake rattles

Origanum libanoticum (Lebanese oregano) used to be very common here and I was introduced to this plant by High Country Gardens. With olive green smooth leaves, the bracts that are typical of the oreganos are very narrow, and slightly tinted with pink, with true flowers of pink poking out throughout the season. I found the predominantly pale green bracts to be disappointing, and in my garden the bracts tended to fade quickly to brown. The herbaceous plants also die to the ground in the winter.

I also tried twice to grow another oregano with strongly rose colored bracts (was it a Greek oregano?), that I got from Agua Fria nursery, but this plant did not survive my winters. The hybrid oregano 'Amethyst Falls' also primarily featured lime green bracts, not living up to its name.


It's easy to overlook Dittany of Crete for the more showy garden members like roses. What makes Dittany of Crete a favorite is that unlike the other cascading oreganos that I've grown, Dittany of Crete has charming round grey fuzzy leaves that are evergreen. This gives it a winter-long presence. Dittany of Crete also has a long season of bloom, the bracts retaining their color for a few months, and they are much more colorful than the predominantly green bracts of the other oreganos. The plants do need a trimming of the faded bracts at this time of the year for the plant to look its best.

The faded hop-like bracts do have a charm of their own, I suppose. 

After a trim, the leaves show their qualities. I could have also waited until spring, and trimmed all of last year's growth down to where the new growth appears, but I like this neater look.

Not the best photograph, but you can see the color in the bracts. This photograph was also taken in November, but had retained their color that year. When the bracts first appear, they are short, and then get longer and longer as the season goes on. The bracts of 'Kent Beauty' are more like paper lanterns, than these rattlesnake tails.

apples

A small portion of this year's Goldrush harvest

There are a number of apple growers in New Mexico, and apples are certainly common enough at the grocery store. Why grow apples? Well, once you start looking into the variety of apples that are available you will realize that there are many, many more varieties that can be grown than are available at the grocery store. Once you start tasting them, you will realize that there is much more to apples than the tasteless and mushy/mealy 'Red Delicious' or 'Golden Delicious' that you, if you are like me, grew up on, and the tart Granny Smith's that were only used for cooking. True, there are much better apples that are available at grocery stores than there used to be, and some of them such as 'Jazz', and 'Envy', are at the top of my taste preference for apples. Yes, growing them takes effort and then you have a harvest to deal with. So let me start of by saying that it isn't for everyone. But there is the satisfaction of growing and harvesting something that you can't get at a grocery store. Even the lowly 'Golden Delicious' is a different animal in terms of taste and texture when is is harvested when mature instead of harvested early for ease of shipping. Then there is the terroir of the apples you have grown. Like grapes and wine, apples also develop a characteristic taste grown in different locales.

'Goldrush'

When I removed some trees from my side yard, I knew immediately that I wanted to plant some apple trees. Years previously I had asked a number of my landscape architecture friends if they could plant one thing only, what they would plant, one of the responses I received was from my friend Rick, who said, “I am within this garden, not looking at it from outside.  It's a garden that offers protection - dappled shade and a sense of enclosure.  It offers sustenance; a fruit.  It expresses the passage of time and cyclic nature of life in fragrant blossom, changing leaves and the stark and spare beauty of a structure laid bare in winter and open to a warming sun.  Fallen leaves give a soft place to lie, protect and regenerate the soil.  A company of birds and critters share its gifts.  I'd be happy to lie under a tree in this apple orchard, watching a changing summer sky.  "Ah, perchance to dream..."

This idea resonated with me, and I kept it in my heart until I had a place to plant an apple tree. I actually had a place to plant FOUR apple trees. Since I had not idea how apples would grow in Albuquerque, or how much fruit I would want, this seemed reasonable. I researched apple varieties for months. Since I like to make Tart Tatin, I decided that I must have at least one cooking apple, and not the English type that make apple sauce, but the French type for apple tart. So that ruled out 'Bramley's Seedling' although I was sorely tempted to try this quintessential English cooking apple.  I was encouraged by a friend to grow 'Fuji' apples, but I also wanted apples that were not possible to get at the grocery store, and 'Fuji' apples were easily obtainable, although not necessarily of a quality that I would always like. I also learned that apples are rather particular as to their climate. Those early settlers of North America from Europe found this out pretty quickly when most of the apples brought with them did not produce well, or produced an inferior product, or simply died. Fortunately apples from seed are so diverse that within a few generations of growing apples from seeds, there were a number of varieties that did well in the New World. Some of these have lasted through time, and remain popular among growers. There are also a number of newer varieties that are bred for disease resistance, and flavor. But to choose an apple (or four), I knew I had to be careful since Albuquerque is a very quirky growing climate. I extensively researched rootstock. Apple trees are grafted onto the root of a different variety of apple for various reasons, mostly to control the size of tree. But those roots also have important characteristics. Because the soil here is poor, and the climate windy, and it is dry, I knew that I would struggle with the most dwarf apple trees, since the roots used to make a dwarf tree need rich soil, and the trees need to be staked throughout their lives so they won't blow over in the wind. A full size apple tree could get 20-30 feet tall and wide, which is too large for my space. So I decided I wanted semidwarfing M111 roots, which would reduce the size of the trees to about 70-80% of full size (standard) trees. M111 is know to anchor trees well, and to tolerate drought.

I began tasting as many apple varieties as possible to see what I liked. Although 'Arkansas Black' is said to grow well here, I didn't like the flavor. 'Empire' is supposed to grow well, but I didn't like flavor or texture much. I've never been impressed with the texture of 'Gala' if is is cut and peeled much in advance of eating, and I like to prepare my snacks in advance so as not to interrupt my work day.  'Mutsu' didn't have a good sweet-tart balance and was too soft for my taste. 'Jazz' is not available as a tree. 'Jonagold' has quirky pollination habits and may not do well in this area but is one of my favorites for making Tart Tatin.


So from thousands of options, I settled on four trees, knowing that at least two of them would be questionable. I knew I had to risk growing 'Calville Blanc d'Hiver', the quintessential French cooking apple, which originated in the 1600's. I also knew I had to grow 'Ashmead's Kernal' (from about 1700) said to be Thomas Jefferson's favorite apple, and an apple that some have described as having "too much flavor." Everything I read said that I wouldn't be able to grow 'Orange Pippin', so I settled for the easier to grow 'Tydeman's Late Orange' (from1929). I also decided upon 'Goldrush', a modern apple (1992) which was said to be very disease resistant, and although descended from 'Golden Delicious' was described as having a better sweet/tart balance, but had some of the honey flavor from it's parent. Also essential was that I plant four trees that could pollinate each other. Although 'Goldrush' is at least partially pollinating, other apple trees need other apple trees to pollinate them, and since apple trees can bloom at different times, only apples that bloom at the same time will work.

It's been five years since I planted those trees and there are a number of things I learned.

It does take at least 4-5  years for trees on M111 roots to produce a decent crop.
Two trees produce more than enough apples for the two of us to use and to give away.
Some trees produce a lot more fruit than others.
Just because a tree produces great fruit somewhere else, doesn't mean it will here (I had made some well researched gambles, but they were gambles nonetheless).
Apple trees need water.
Apple trees need nutrients.
Apples here get worms. They get enough worms that the fruit is unusable unless the trees are sprayed with insecticide throughout the season. For a schedule check out the New Mexico State University website. 
Apples need protection from birds. Birds here are very aggressive about eating apples. They jack-hammer them with their beaks until they are full, leaving about 3/4 of the fruit left. The damaged fruit falls to the ground, and the birds move on to another fruit. Sometimes they just sample a number of fruit, and a number of birds over a week can damage most of a crop.
Different varieties of apple trees have very different growth habits. I thought that planting four varieties of apples together would produce a uniform planting, but some of the trees grew strictly upright, others more of a weeping shape, and some were awkward.
Apple trees don't produce much fall color, some more than others, some none at all.

Some leaves, individually can be quite attractive on some trees.

Fruiting apple trees produce pretty flowers, but not many of them, and they don't make much of a show. That's why people plant crabapple trees, for the multitude of flowers. 

The whole tree in the fall doesn't make an impressive fall show.

I removed the 'Calville Blanc d'Hiver' after three years of its producing fruit that sunburned and became corky on the sun exposed sides. It also was a favorite of the birds. Mostly, the fruit was hard to use, as peeling it was very difficult, the flesh coming off with the peel in large chunks, even with a sharp peeler. The flesh had the texture of styrofoam and the grown here, the flavor unexceptional. Likewise, I removed 'Ashmead's Kernal' this year, after several years of a very large tree producing very few, very small fruit, not much bigger than a lemon, and mostly pit. It was also very susceptible to sunburn of the fruit. I almost gave up on all of them after losing a couple years crops to worms and failing at intense efforts at organic methods for two years, until I learned to spray.

'Goldrush' has turned out to be the standout performer. Although the first fruits it produced were not very tasty, in subsequent years, the fruit has been extremely flavorful, both sweet and tart. Samples given to friends have always resulted in "Oh my God, that's an incredible apple!" comments. It is good for fresh eating. It is good for cooking, holding its shape and adding incredible flavor.

Fresh out of the oven

The small tree is amazingly productive. This year I picked over five, 5-gallon buckets of fruit.

This small tree produced that much fruit. Fall color here is nice, but not exceptional.

Fruit is produced amazingly densely on the tree and requires thinning early in the season. 

Branches need support from all the heavy fruit, or risk breakage.

'Tydeman's Late Orange' has also proved itself to be a keeper. Although not nearly as productive as 'Goldrush', it produces a decent crop of large fruit that need to be rescued from the birds who find it particularly irresistible. The fresh flavor is more bland than 'Goldrush' but still quite good. I think of it more as a cooking apple. The Tart Tatin (yes I capitalize it), I made from the 'Tydeman's Late Orange' was deemed by my friends to be the "best ever", and I've made Tart Tatin for them for over 10 years. When I removed the other two trees, my friends begged me to keep this tree, because they loved the tart so much. It's more of a lax tree, not weeping, but with rather thin willowy branches to start. It also needs strict pruning to keep it from branching down low. It has no fall color whatsoever, the leaves turning from green to dry before falling off. Here is the tree today (below).

This year, the apples were picked before they turned very orange, since the birds just DEVOUR them. Given another few weeks or a month to ripen they would have been more flavorful and colorful, but then there would be literally none left from the birds. The apples tend to be rather large.

So if you plan to plant apple trees in New Mexico, keep a few things in mind. Choose an apple that you really like, because when it comes time to harvest, there will be a lot, and they are a fairly large amount of work. Be prepared to irrigate, fertilize (i.e. a thick mulch of decomposed compost). Be prepared to thin the apples. Be prepared to spray, put the spraying schedule on your calendar, and FOLLOW IT. Learn how to prune properly. Choose your rootstock for your growing conditions. Choose your varieties for pollination. Is it worth it? You decide. I decided to replace the two I removed with a fig and a cherry tree.

optimism

Gardeners must be optimists. We have to be. It takes a degree of optimism to plant something, and expect something to come out of it. When we plant the tiny seed, or bury bulbs in the ground, or plant a baby tree, we trust that what we plant will grow, and we hope that what we plant will grow into what we imagine in our mind's eye. Innumerable things can go wrong. The seed doesn't germinate. The bulbs get eaten by mice. The tree grows into something that has a very different character than what we expect, and we only discover this years later. I must confess that I've always considered myself a pessimist, or a realist, rather than an optimist. But planting bulbs today, I realize that I am much more of an optimist than I thought.

starting a new garden

It’s been a long time since I started a garden. Recently one of my friends bought a house, and with it came a garden. They had never gardened before. They had never picked up a shovel or a pruner or a rake. They are total newbies. They asked if they could have some of my divisions, or cast-off’s. I gave them some irises.

Planning for those pretty flowers in May is very satisfying, but what will the garden look like when the flowers are gone?

One of my gardening books says to start a garden by focusing on one season. In this way, the new gardener will learn gardening in a smaller step than trying to design a year-round garden from the get-go. They can learn how plants with a similar life-cycle grow and bloom, what kind of care they need and when they need it, instead of trying to do it all and getting overwhelmed. Then as the new gardener gains experience, they can start planting things that bloom in other times of the year, and learn different gardening techniques. The easiest season to start with, and to plan for is the main perennial bloom season, and in Albuquerque, that season is May. That is when most of the common old-fashioned flashy perennials bloom, like irises and peonies. These are good plants to start with because they are easy, and they are a lot of reward for the effort, given that you can have big impressive flowers the first year after planting. They are also rewarding for the experienced gardener as well. Of course, these old-fashioned perennials are not native plants. They also tend to have a very short bloom season.



Starting off with the structural plants may seem boring, but I actually love the structural plants.

If I were starting a garden, or if someone asked me how they should start a garden, I would have a different approach. I would say start with winter. By starting in the winter, you may not get the feel-good experience of easy perennials, but there are long-term benefits to this. First of all, you start your garden off  with structure. Because I do have experience, I do know what this means, and how to design this though. The benefit for the beginner, is that the garden starts off with year-round structure, and that, ultimately, is more satisfying for the garden as a whole, than the flash in the pan perennials that leave a lot wanting at other seasons. Even more important is that if you start with the short season pretties, you may find yourself doing a lot of work moving those perennials once you realize that they are in the way of creating a design that would be pleasing all year round. You might end up planting the structural plants around the seasonal perennials, which is like the tail wagging the dog. If you start with winter, then it’s relatively easy to plant the seasonal plantings around the structural plants and you don’t end up with holes, or a lop-sided garden. Starting with planning for  and planting the winter garden, not only do you start off that first winter with a beautiful winter garden, but keep in mind that the winter season here is at least 4 months long, where the garden doesn’t really change. That’s a long time compared to the week or two of bloom from the seasonal flowers. May as well make the best of it.

diversity in the garden

Early Spring

I've recently given myself a moratorium on buying new plants. I don't know how long this will last, but I'm going to try. I'm doing this because frankly, I have more plants than I have space for, and I already have a huge diversity of plants. From a design standpoint, there are pro's and con's in considering the amount of diversity to have in the garden, and each of us makes our own decisions, and has our comfort level. For myself, there are a number of benefits to a large diversity. The first benefit in my mind, is that with diversity, there is more look at, different colors, forms and textures.

Late Spring

Second, there is a longer season of bloom. I have something in bloom just about all year round. Even in my temperature extreme climate, I can have something blooming almost every day of the year. This certainly is not the case with a low diversity garden, although there are certainly benefits to having a garden that is not focused on bloom at all. It's just that that's what I want. I want something in bloom all year round, and you can't have that unless you have enough diversity.

Summer

Thirdly, if something dies, it doesn't leave an obvious gap in the plantings, such as if a hedge with a hole in it.

But this huge diversity also creates a busy garden and it can look rather messy and haphazard. It can also be a lot of work, as different things need care at different times. If you have a garden of only a few varieties of plants, then the gardening becomes much easier. When it's time to trim, they can all get done at the same time and be done. It can also make for a more restful garden since it doesn't encourage the eye to jump from one thing to another. A less diverse garden can also be more dramatic, in that a large number of the same plant, all in bloom at the same time, can make an incredible impact. Of course, the flip side of that is that when the bloom season is over, that garden can revert to monotony.

Fall

From a ecologic standpoint, Nature has shown us what diversity she wants in our area. I've certainly had my guilt about not having a garden focused on native plants. But in my defense, I certainly have more insect and bird diversity than I ever had when the garden was mostly lawn. And since my garden has a lot more growing and blooming than in a native landscape, my observation suggests that I have more diversity of birds and insects as well. You could probably argue that these exotic plants may also be encouraging the birds and insects that are also exotic and not part of the local ecology. Yes, it is a dilemma. We have to find our balance in how much diversity we want in our garden.

Winter

the long cleanup begins this year with the iris

Now that we have had the first hard frost, cleanup time begins. If this were a milder climate, cleanup would really be all year long. If this were a more severe climate, it would be more intense and then winter would be a breeze. Here, you could have a big winter cleanup, or you could do a little at a time throughout the winter. Fortunately, what you do stays until spring, for the most part. This weekend, I started with the irises.

Now irises have what I call their "Summer Leaves" which are long, and they have their "Winter Leaves" which are short tufts of leaves that last through the winter before they elongate and grow into the summer leaves with the new summer leaves. By this time of the year, the summer leaves get rather ragged, and I like to pull them off. You could wait until spring, when the the winter leaves start to grow. Or you could wait until each leaf turns brown and pull them off one by one throughout the winter. But to me, it looks neater through to do it all now. Of course I don't do it with all the irises. Some of them don't have many winter leaves, so I leave the ragged leaves on those. 

The miniature irises do get rather ragged and have distinct winter leaves.

These were newly divided and planted this year.

Before

After

It's best to wear gloves when pulling off the leaves since the dry leaves can crumble into sharp bits that can lodge under the skin. It's also best to pull the leaves off the rhizomes instead of cutting them. It makes for a much cleaner result.

Before

After

 This one is an older established clump. I'll have to divide it next year, as the rhizomes are starting to pile on top of each other.

Before

After

Ahhh....I feel much better now.

zephranthes candida

It's very easy for me to overlook Zephranthes candida. This rain lily seems to be too common to pay much attention to. It also needs nearly no attention to survive, even to thrive. In fact, it is so easy to grow, that it feels like a weed. The leaves are grassy and nondescript, but a pleasant medium green that grow to 4-6 inches tall. They become a bit ratty looking in late summer, right before the monsoon weather comes, but not terribly so. Then, it seems that overnight that plant turns into a drama queen. It's like on one of those shows on television when the mousy shy person comes out to sing and then when they open their mouths, they are so amazing that they blow everyone away.

Those same qualities that make it easy to overlook is what makes it so valuable. It will grow in full sun. It will grow in more than part shade, which is an amazing feat in New Mexico, where most plants need a specific exposure, those that need full sun growing pathetically weak in even part shade, and those that do best in part shade burning in the full sun or struggling in more shade.

It's true that they do better with some irrigation, but don't really need as much as many common plants.

They multiply quite quickly, are easy to divide, and are so tough that I've dug and transplanted at any time of the year without any noticeable difference. This year, when the leaves started turning brown at the tips in the summer, I cut them all down to the ground. I didn't like the bare ground look that resulted, however. It lasted for about a month until the plants began to bloom, and the plants went on to bloom like they do normally. Had I not cut them back, there would have been green leafy coverage. Speaking of which, the green leaves last through the winter, and look great, like mondo grass, even through snow and sub-zero temperatures. How many plants have all these qualities?

My plants have been blooming for more than a month now, despite the frost. Usually they bloom from late August through September and into October. It's about a two month show. Inspired by these tough, vigorous and impressive plants of Z. candida, I purchased another species of Zephranthes, Z. drummondii, but it hasn't proved to be nearly as tough and floriferous as Z. candida, requiring more attention, having a very brief mid-summer bloom and foliage that does not make a good landscape presence. Will I try other Zephranthes? Probably not, given the proven qualities of Zephranthes candida.

growing lilies in albuquerque

I love lilies. Lilies bring out the child in me, perhaps more than any other plant, although cattleya orchids and irises may be strong contenders. And clematis have some of the characteristics that bring out that same joy, but clematis are new to me. When I was a child, I splurged and bought a single bulb of African Queen, an orange trumpet lily. I planted it in pot and waited. It was amazing to watch as the stem grew, and grew, so tall, taller than me. Buds formed and soon, the flowers opened, enormous in size and with an intense fragrance. I was enchanted. That’s the thing about lilies and why I love them. Every year, they give that Jack-and-the-Beanstalk effect. They grow so quickly once they emerge from the ground that you can see the difference from day to day, especially on the ones that grow tall, like the trumpet lilies. Children do not have the patience to watch a plant grow a few inches a year. When a plant grows from an underground bulb to 6 or more feet in 2-3 months, that can be an inch or more a day. Not all lilies grow this large, and I don’t really care for the really dwarf lilies that are less than a foot tall. But even the shorter lilies of 2-3 feet tall are of a size that relate to my size. All the garden lilies have flowers that relate to the human scale as well. Not all lilies are fragrant, and many people do not like the fragrance of lilies. I’ve hear them described as “funeral home.” But to me, that fragrance is a joy, even when it is sometimes so strong as to be overwhelming, and I feel sorry for people who have a negative response to them. Yes, when I watch lilies leap out of the ground, and produce those enormous scented flowers, I feel like a child again.

Growing among shrubs helps support and shade the stems, but after a few years, the shrubs roots will overtake the lilies.

Unfortunately, I have not found lilies to be particularly easy to grow in New Mexico. My first season growing lilies produced wind shredded flowers and broken stems when the winds of spring struck. I was devastated. I moved the bulbs that fall to another location, and also planted some bulbs of a variety called ‘Scheherezade’ in a large clay pot in my sheltered courtyard. I had read that it is best to plant lilies among shrubs so that “their feet are in the shade and their heads are in the sun” so I tried that, too. The next season, the garden planted lilies were again shredded by the winds, although the lilies planted among the shrubs had some protection and I had some flowers. The potted lilies grew 5 feet tall and were protected from the wind. Success! Or so I thought. After several years, the trees in the courtyard grew and the lilies did not get enough sun. I fertilized them too much as well, and the stems broke from the weight of the flowers. The lilies planted among the shrubs dwindled as the roots of the shrubs grew into the enriched and irrigated lily planting area, and stole their water and nutrients.

L. leucanthum on 6 foot tall plants.

After more than 5 years of growing lilies, here’s what I discovered.

Choose your location carefully. Lilies should have protection from wind, but they also need sun. Morning sun with partial afternoon shade is best. Although they can survive all day sun, they can burn. If lily leaves or stems burn, they won’t re-grow the damage until next year. If the stems burn, it can cause enough damage that they won’t bloom that year.

Heartbroken by the wind damage to my 'Silk Road'

Lilies need rich soil. To grow in a Jack-and-the-Beanstalk way, lilies need nutrition. When planting them, dig in a generous amount of compost at least a couple of feet across. There’s no need to put in fertilizer. I’ve read that fertilizer can burn the roots at this time, but I have no proof of this. You can dig in well rotted manure though. I’ve read that lilies prefer sandy soil, but since my soil is sandy, I don’t have anything to compare it to. Sandy soil is low in nutrients though, and those lilies planted in my sandy soil without amending with compost were not happy.

Lilies need moisture. To grow quickly, lilies need moisture. They don’t want wet soil which may cause them to rot, and in fact they need well drained soil, but they need a constant amount of moisture. It’s a balancing act. Remember that lilies never really go completely dormant, and they will need moisture over the winter even though there is nothing above the ground. I found this out the hard way, when I didn’t water a number of just-purchased and rather expensive lilies and most of them died. In wetter climates than here, the concern is too much water, but here in the desert, too dry is a bigger worry. I’ve had a problem that may be related to soil moisture. In the middle of summer, after growth is well on the way but before bloom, the stems at the soil line turn brown, collapse and fall over. This occurs within a couple of days, and the stem is then dead. Usually the bulbs survive and grow again the next year, but don’t grow or bloom again that year. The next year they are smaller and weaker, but they can recover. I’m not sure of the cause of this. I’ve read that it is due to too much water, but I doubt that here. I think it is more due to lack of moisture in the winter, followed by hot temperatures in the summer. Watering generously after symptoms appear seem to make it worse, so maybe there is some truth in what I read after all. Just remember to keep them moist throughout the winter.

'Eros'

Plant lilies deeply. Lilies need to be planted deeper than most bulbs. On the other hand, it is better to plant a little too shallowly than too deeply since lilies have contractile roots and can pull themselves deeper if the soil is loose enough, but this can take a couple of growing seasons. They can’t lift themselves up higher, so there’s no need to go crazy. When I dug the bulbs of ‘Silk Road’ after a few years, I discovered that although I had planted them about 4-6 inches deep, they were now about 12 or so inches deep, deeper than my big spade. The bulbs are about the size of a daffodil bulb, but if you planted a daffodil bulb this deep it would be way too deep. The reason lilies want and need to be planted this deep is because of how the roots form. Most bulbs grow their roots from their bottoms, and lilies do have roots at the bottoms of the bulbs, but these roots are just for anchor. The roots that do the bulk of the work in absorbing water and nutrition are formed along the stem that grows above the bulb and in the soil. So if they are planted too shallowly, they will have less ability to grow roots. The result of course, is a less strong and healthy plant, and less flowers.

Stake the tall lilies. For the tall lilies that I like to grow, put in the stakes at planting time. They should be about 6 foot stakes, with the bottom two feet deep in the soil for stability. It’s best to leave the stakes in the ground all winter, even if you don’t like the look. If you remove the stakes and replace them in the spring, you can skewer a bulb. And trust me, even though there is nothing above the ground when you plant them, you will wish you had if you are struggling to put in stakes and tie the stems to the stakes when the wind is gusting at 50 mph, or if you are left with broken stems and flowers when the wind storm is over.

L. leucanthum

Plant in pots. Here is the biggest tip I learned for growing lilies here. There are a number of good reasons for doing so. Potting mix is created to hold moisture and also to be well drained. Perfect. It’s also easier to tell if you are watering enough, because the raised pot is easy to stick your finger into and see if the mix is damp. In a pot, there is also no competition from other plants such as shrubs, which will steal water and nutrient from the lily bulbs. The loose mix is also easier for the lilies to grow roots into and the pull their bulbs to their preferred depth if they need to. So the lilies grow stronger and faster. An interesting thing I discovered is that when repotting lilies in the fall, those grown in pots already have a strong root mass, like a perennial, filling the pot with fresh white roots. Those planted in the ground have almost no roots coming off of the bulbs. Another benefit of growing in pots is that they can be moved to a more favorable location in case of inclement weather. So on those windy days, if you have been keeping up with the weather forecast, you can move the pots into a sheltered area for a day or two until the weather calms down, and then move the plants out to a sunny spot again. One of the downsides to pots, is that if the pot is not big and heavy enough, the wind can knock over the tall plants. Yes, it is more work than some other plants. Something I may try this year is to grow lilies in pots, but to plant those pots in the garden, so that the lilies have their own little space.

Seeing strong growths emerging in the spring just makes my heart sing.

Fertilize, but not too much. One year I wanted to see how big my ‘Scheherezade’ would grow. I fertilized heavily and regularly and they grew extra fast and tall…but weakly. When the big flowers opened, the stems couldn’t hold the flowers up and broke. That weak growth also makes the plants more susceptible to virus infection, according to what I've read. But if you are planting in our poor soils, you will need to fertilize. Top dress them with compost and/or well rotted horse manure. They will appreciate that. Remember that the roots are above the bulb, so the top dressing is something the lilies especially appreciate.

'Scheherezade' growing so tall that I had to rig up strings from the roof to support it.

...and the disastrous results of broken stems after overfertilization.

Plant lilies in the fall. Now is the best time to plant lilies. Planting in the spring definitely gave me poorer results. Don’t even bother with those plastic bags of bulbs that you can get at the big box stores, no matter how enticing those pretty pictures are. You may get something to grow (or maybe not since those bulbs are pretty dried out and as I mentioned before, lilies don’t really go dormant), but to grow AND bloom, with healthy happy plants, plant in the fall.

'White Butterflies'

Yes, lilies are more work than say, tulips here in the desert. So although I wouldn’t want a garden of just lilies, I definitely would want at least a few.