Pass the Vapors. This is One Hot Plant.

It's an expensive habit if you don't have a friend with a greenhouse (I'm working on it), but many of us who crave sexy summer plants indulge in naughty delights like echeverias. It was while shopping for these fleshy opalescent beauties -- yet to be planted, pix to follow -- that I came across a spectacular plant now waving at me from my garden.

It's said to be an unnamed cultivated variety of the Brazilian living vase bromelia, Aechmea mulfordii. Even if you know nothing about plants, know this: an unnamed cultivar is hot news.

I know nothing, nada, about bromeliads. But I've got an impressive source. Burl Mostul is the proprietor of Rare Plant Research outside Oregon City, a mecca for all us poor plant slobs who cannot, like Burl, scour the world for jaw-dropping vegetation. Sigh.

Here's Burl among his electrifying aechmea. I forget how many jewel-stuffed greenhouses he has, they're all pretty life-affirming, but none shimmer quite like this one.

photo credit: Ketzel Levine, NPR

 

So here's the story Burl told me behind his orange/pink/mango-colored aechmea:

I went to Honolulu to go to the Lyon Arboretum plant sale. It's pretty big. And I met this little Japanese woman there, her name was Hatsumi Maertz, and she had some interesting bromeliads. And then I asked her if she had more at home. She said 'Sure!' and I went to this place in Pearl City.

When I got there, all you could see was bromeliads. Front and back. She was just an amazing collector. (Note: Burl didn't know at the time that Hatsumi Maertz was one of the founding members of the Hawaii Bromeliad Society).

Anyway, she had a lot of everything and this one stood out because of its color and size, more compact unlike the the more straggly ones. The normal A. mulfordii is green, but she'd gotten this cultivar from somebody else, you know how plants get passed around. So I rented a pick-up and bought at least 20 offsets from her, among a bunch of other plants.

I've had them about five years or so and I've only sold about 30 or 40 so far. This is the first year they're ready for sale. I have NEVER seen a color like this.

This is the part where I have to tell you that Burl doesn't do much mail order. But you can always drop him a line.

4:52 PM ET | 07-16-2008 | permalink | comments (2) | e-mail post

One Pix/One Caption Contest

It's working pretty well for the New Yorker, so I thought I'd try it here.

Why is my black mondo grass dying?

photo credit: Ketzel Levine, NPR

 

If you've got a plant-related pix that begs a smart-ass one-liner, send it to me.

11:05 AM ET | 07-11-2008 | permalink | comments (2) | e-mail post

Radical Front Yard Gardener Throws in the Towel

Lest you think all do-good gardeners suffer from eco-hubris, don't miss the latest entry by D.C. gardener Susan Harris over at our friends' place, Garden Rant.

Having removed her front lawn with valiant determination, intent on growing her own food, Susan quickly realized "that my front yard - that most visible of spaces - would look like crap for most of the year, and I suddenly lost heart".

She then switched to a savvy hodge-podge of low-growing ornamentals.

No doubt I particularly love her blog post because I'm constantly having to defend my decision to have an ornamental-only garden. Never mind that I don't cook; people just seem so disappointed that I don't graze in my own garden and grow my own food.

Morally disappointed, that is.

But I do graze! For the two weeks it's in flower, I eat the sugary sweet petals off my pineapple guava. I also steal into my beloved neighbors' lawn-dominated garden and gobble down the raspberries growing along their fence.

Then I stuff my pockets full of cash, head to any number of Portland's farmer's markets, and like a great humanitarian lavish my wages on our hard-working local growers.

The market economy welcomes you back, Susan!

9:26 AM ET | 07- 9-2008 | permalink | comments (3) | e-mail post

Winter Memories on a Hot Summer Day

The problem with getting up really early is the number of times you have to listen to your local Morning Edition announcer carry on about the weather forecast. By repeatedly warning us about the upcoming heat today, he's set up his entire listening audience to swelter and complain.

Better he should talk about the chance to store up all that sunlight in our solar cells, or to get outside while it's still gorgeous. And boy howdy, it sure is.

(Oh no, now he's saying we'd better draw the curtains. Somebody put him on ice!)

Fortunately here at Talking Plants the subject is winter, as we come down the home stretch of our anniversary celebration by highlighting a year of great pix from our Flickr group.

Though there were some great frozen flowers to choose from -- some looked like iced flower pops -- I found myself drawn towards the darker depressing ones. Their effect on me -- last night when I chose them, anyway -- was calming, like seeing my inner colors projected onto a screen.

TP member Dave Getzy clearly showed some insight when he chose his Flickr name, pathos3. I find this frosted leaf shivering on a sheet of ice so sad! Dave writes, "I tend to walk/hike with my dogs a lot in winter, and the somber tones of the wooded areas around Fort Collins seem to reflect my mood this time of year. This picture was taken at Arapahoe Bend Open Space, on the southeast border of Fort Collins". Thanks for the insight, Dave.

photo credit: Dave Getzy

 

Now meet Danuta Majchrowicz, a good and constant friend of Talking Plants.

"What can I tell you about myself? I spent 7 years overseas working and studying languages and archeology in Poland, France, Israel and several countries of West Africa. I then worked with study abroad and international students in the US for 18 years, until recently when I started working for my husband (a retired cell biologist who rehabs houses when he's not playing golf). We've been involved with blind golfers for about 6 years now".

During the last year on TP, Danuta's submitted lots of optimistic flower portraits. For obvious reasons, however, I couldn't resist her deep and melancholy winter silhouette.

Danuta took this photo in Northwestern Pennsylvania on Christmas Day.

photo credit: Danuta Majchrowicz

 

I've got a few more pix this week, then we're off and running into Year #2. Assuming, that is, that my current stubborn funk frees me to celebrate the ordinary, the magical, the wonder of every day. That's where you come in...

11:49 AM ET | 07- 7-2008 | permalink | comments (1) | e-mail post

TP Fall Photo of the Year

The dogs and I have survived another 4th with the help of Benadryl (for them) and two loud movies (for we three). Managed to get a hike in and saw our lovely native lily, Lilium columbianum. Always leaves me a bit wistful.

D'you garden? High time we started swapping notes about the living, the slugged and the dead.

But when last we met, I was in the midst of celebrating Talking Plant's first anniversary with an array of particularly fabulous photos that premiered on the TP Flickr site. And yes, I now realize I was largely celebrating alone.

Yet in the hopes you're still stopping by as things far more pressing compete for your attention, I thought you'd enjoy a memorable blast of vivacity from last fall.

Titled "Setting Them Free," the shot of this milkweed spilling all was captured by TP Flickr member Camera Slayer. As it turns out -- and I didn't know this until recently -- said Slayer is actually our own Harold Neal, who works as a web application developer for NPR. I asked him what camera he used for his wonderful shot; his answer, "a very thin Casio EX-V8 that I keep in my pocket for those 'unexpected' shots when I didn't bring my bigger cameras." Check out what he can do with his entire array.

photo credit: Camera Slayer

 

2:35 PM ET | 06-30-2008 | permalink | comments (3) | e-mail post

Summer Eye Candy on our Anniversary

In August 2007, a gender-unknown person by the name of Cy Savino uploaded a stunning close-up of a bee in multi-hued buds. Almost a year later, I now know her real name.

Cynthia Savino spends her summers as a dance instructor at the Albuquerque Academy. She's also a fencing enthusiast talented enough to coach. And she belongs to a number of Flickr groups aside from Ketzel's, including Secret Life of Plants and The Flower Show.

The girl's got an eye for plants and invertebrates, for sure. Congrats, Cynthia, on being named TP Summer Eye Candy of the Year!

If you'd like to know more about Cynthia's macro photography, stop by her Flickr page and drop her a friendly, "Ketzel sent me" line.

photo credit: cy_savino

 

A bug in a bud has got to be worth at least two in a blog -- which brings to mind one of the best-loved creature pix of Talking Plants' first year. It dates from September 2007 and was credited to Judie Dunn (alas, we haven't had any submissions from her in a while). The title of that day's blog was Beautyberry and the Beast.

The identity of the spider caused quite a stir when the post went up. The last word went to Bill Barber, a spider expert and TP friend: "I think I can agree with Phidippus spp., but I thought (from the B.J. Kaston book) it's the male (not female) of the genus that have the vertical 'eyebrow tufts.' From this photo it's hard to tell if the chelicerae are iridescent, which would further suggest male." We are so beyond hip ...

photo credit: Judie Dunn

 

We've had so many wonderful summer pix in the last year, to pick one is certainly not to diss another. We've featured a few of them on the NPR homepage billboard just in the last week, but you never did get to see the one below in its entirety.

I was pretty sucker-punched by this white peony and its pink belly button until I saw the photographer's name. Ah yes, Aleth11, I should have known. She's one of the most frequent contributors to the Talking Plants Flickr Group and her stuff just gets better and better. I couldn't help but notice that her grandma BJ was one mean photographer, too.

photo credit: aleth11

 

There's still a little time left for you to nominate your favorite of our first year's TP Flickr Pix. But if you're not up to the challenge, come back tomorrow for more of the best of the best ...

2:33 PM ET | 06-30-2008 | permalink | comments (0) | e-mail post

A Bud for George Carlin

File under, better late than negligent:

When I realized TP needed a leaf, flower or plant in memory of George Carlin, my first thought was a spikey, metallic Eryngium. Then it hit me like a dope slap. DUH.

And another irreplaceable leaf falls from the tree of life.

photo credit: mimis_freaking_out

 

and this, from George Carlin's Brain Droppings:

Life is short. Sorry. Life is not short, it's just that since everything else lasts so long -- mountains, rivers, stars, planets -- life seems short. Actually life lasts just the right amount of time. Until you die. Death on the other hand, is short.

12:01 PM ET | 06-27-2008 | permalink | comments (2) | e-mail post

The Human Body Ain't Got Nothing On This Plant

First and foremost, this breaking news...

TALKING PLANTS TURNS ONE YEAR OLD TODAY!!!

I'd like to celebrate all next week by posting some of the best pix from our TP Flickr Pool and I need YOUR nominations.

Why not take a few minutes and either scroll through former posts or walk through our garden of, count 'em, nearly TWO THOUSAND submitted images and send me the best spring, summer, winter and fall TP Pix of the Year.

As a token of my thanks for your continued interest in Talking Plants through rain sleet and inexplicable absence, I'm posting a great big ol' Flickr pix that says more than I can legally say.

This is only one of the sumptuous images TP photographer Chris Stamboulis recently taken at the Kenilworth Park and Aquatic Gardens in Washington, D.C. Talk about an inside-the-beltway scandal. And let me add a personal note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY WONDERFUL BEAUTIFUL MAGGIE. Add it to your birthday bouquet.

photo credit:Chris Stamboulis

 

3:57 PM ET | 06-26-2008 | permalink | comments (6) | e-mail post

What Do You Call A Garden Without Plants?

What What Eve Do, Part Five

I call it a respite. A worry-free moment. A garden with limitless possibilities. I also call it, mine.

On the left, what was; on the right, what is. This is very nearly the same angle, now that the juniperous tree has been moved to the parking strip. And this is pretty much the way I last saw the garden before having to leave for the NPR mothership in DC. more than a week ago. Just grabbed the pix before heading for the airport; took me this entire week to find the data storage card!

photo credit: Ketzel Levine, NPR

 

If you've followed the What Would Eve Do series thus far, believe me, I know this is anticlimactic. But I will make good in my next installment, once I get back home (only a few days left) and really take stock -- and pictures -- of what Eve has thus far wrought.

It was no small trick for the concrete crew to add these powdered colors to the setting cement. The process took them about 3 hours, the results beyond my expectations. The colors were pretty subtle when I last saw them, but they've since been sealed (evidentally, an ecological disaster. My housesitter said the fumes in the house made the place unliveable). I'll know in a few days if doing that was a mistake.

photo credit: Ketzel Levine, NPR

 

3:08 PM ET | 06-19-2008 | permalink | comments (4) | e-mail post

Let It Pour, Let It Pour, Let It Pour

What Would Eve Do, Part Four

Let's get the ugly stuff out of the way immediately. I made a commitment, all right. I decided that Eve would try something she'd never experienced in her garden before: colored concrete.

I tried to talk her out of it. "Eve," I argued, "it's not porous, it's not biodegradable. For Adam's sake, it's just not green!" She didn't care; she figured she'd greened up enough of the planet in her day that her own conscience could tolerate a hardscape that came out of a hose.

Like chocolate pudding, the concrete arrived pre-mixed a rich, chocolate brown. This would be the base color, anyway, what would be left after the applied colors on top eventually faded (alas, it comes with the media). We're talking a pour that took place last Friday morning; by evening, it was cured.

photo credit: Ketzel Levine

 

The company I chose to work with was All-American Concrete, indistinguishable by name but wait till you meet its owner, Kip. More to the point, when I met Kip, I was caught off-guard by his shy, quiet, Mayberry-like manner and his unselfconscious but alarming good looks. Having learned in oh! so many ways not to be undone by handsomeness, I also called his three references and all cooed over his work.

When I first talked with Kip, back in late March, I was interested in having a flagstone look in the courtyard, which could sorta kinda be achieved by staining and stamping the concrete. Luckily, I changed my mind and decided to add interest by scoring the concrete into a jumble of rectangular shapes, then using three different earthy colors on top of the brown base. (The stamping could have easily backfired and looked tacky).

A few days before the big pour, Kip showed me a bunch of concrete color samples I'd chosen from a chart. I don't think I picked any of the four above. It's a very hit and miss process, this concrete-coloring stuff, but in looking at all my other hardscape choices, this is the one that got me closest to my goal: tidy, no weeding, nice for walking barefoot, and colors that would marry the orange house and the dark gray fountain.

photo credit: Ketzel Levine, NPR

 

Tomorrow's installment of What Would Eve Do: Blow me over, it's g-o-r-g-e-o-u-s. Plus, so much for the 5K budget.

3:46 PM ET | 06-18-2008 | permalink | comments (3) | e-mail post