The Gardeners Anonymous Blog

A Party In My Nose

Oh, come on, I’m not talking about the eighties. I am talking about the glorious spring combination of honeysuckle and wild mock orange, two of my favorite fragrances. I have them growing in a small space near my garage, and every time I walk out to the garage I am reminded that I should plant more honeysuckle and mock orange throughout my yard. Either that or I should start living in the garage.

What kind of honeysuckle do I have?  Well, there about 180 different species of honeysuckle and this one originated from a piece of vine I snapped off somewhere in Santa Cruz.  So, the truth is, I don’t know exactly. But I can tell you with certainty that it smells great. The flowers start off white and then turn dark yellow as they age.

Mock orange is ubiquitous in my neighborhood, and its perfume carries from many of my neighbors’ yards. The plant itself isn’t so pretty. But it sure smells good. 

Although my brain light is getting dimmer as I get older, the light did finally click on.  I suddenly realized that I should snap some more pieces off my own stolen honeysuckle vine and start more plants.  Duh!

So that is what I did, and now, not only do I have tons of little starts in my kitchen, but my whole house smells heavenly.

 

Rattlesnake Season-The Third Anniversary of My Rattlesnake Bite

I blew out my knee this week, and I am now on crutches. This reminds me that three years ago, I was on crutches for an entirely different reason. While photographing wildflowers on a trail near my house, I was bitten by a Northern Pacific Rattlesnake – a really big one, at that.

I stepped right on it while adjusting my camera. After it bit me, I shook the snake off my leg; secured the two dogs I was hiking with, sat down, and called my girlfriend. She lives at the trailhead, and I wanted her to call 9-1-1 from her landline for a faster response time.

I was rescued, I live to tell the tale, and I don’t even have a scar to show for all my suffering. Sometimes I contemplate getting a tattoo to commemorate the event. People ask me all the time if I still hike that trail. Of course I hike there. Why should I let something like that run my life? Receiving a legitimate bite by a rattlesnake is extremely rare, especially in the foothills of Los Gatos, California.

A couple days before my recent knee accident, I took my new neighbors out on that very trail. They were looking for a place to walk their dog. I was excited to show them the trail I walk at least 4 times a week, the trail where I had my misunderstanding with the rattler. It’s a beautiful hike where we often see deer, bobcat, herons, and hawks. And, the dogs love it.

As we walked, I told them the story. They were both wearing shorts and hiking sandals. Halfway through my story we came upon the place where I was bitten. My neighbors became oddly quiet, and started to slow their pace. I kept telling them they didn’t have to worry about it. “Just be careful and watch where you step. Stay on the trail. If for some reason you must go off the trail, you should wear boots, and perhaps carry a stick to test the area where you are about to place your feet. That’s all.”

I could see that my ophiophabia calming techniques weren’t exactly working on them. In their minds, they were packing their bags and moving…again.

I Want My Cecile Back

Butterfly clinging to spent Cecile Brunner blossoms.

Putting a plant in the proper location with pay you back in spades. I planted this Cecile Brunner climbing rose two years ago as a small plant.

Look at it now.

Look at it no

Watching this beautiful old rose’s first blooms open made me so happy. Though the days were overcast and cool, the tiny pale-pink blossoms held the promise of spring. But spring never came. Nope, we went directly to summer. We had daily temps in the nineties for a week. Hot and gross. I watched the little pink buds open and droop faster than my face in my fifties. 

I was terribly disappointed that I had so little time to enjoy that carpet of soft pink.  Cecile Brunner climbing roses bloom only once. I felt so cheated. I needed to see that profusion of little pink blooms just once more before the onslaught of hot summer temperatures. I was so disheartened that I decided to deadhead the whole vine. 

It’s not like I didn’t have at least twenty more important chores to do. I just couldn’t help myself. I cut every one of those tiny spent blossoms off that damn vine until my carpal tunnel started acting up, and I don’t even have carpal tunnel. I think I developed Cecile tunnel. 

I left only a few dead blooms at the top of vine on the roof, which I couldn’t reach. 

I have heard that deadheading will cause Cecile Brunner to bloom again, and I have also read that it won’t. All I can do is wait and see. 

Have you had any luck getting your Cecile Brunner vine to bloom a second time in one season?  Please tell me about it!