On a tour of secret gardens in Santa Fe, New Mexico, Kathryn and I peek behind adobe walls for tantalizing glimpses of hidden treasures. Organized by the Santa Fe Botanical Gardens, the tour provides access to several small urban gardens not normally visible to passersby.

A beautifully sophisticated yet rustic fence made of reddish twigs defines the boundary between the garden and the natural environment beyond. This very low maintenance garden, features a beautiful mix of native and exotic plant materials all well adapted to local climate conditions and low rainfall. This is a xeriscape garden. Many people think that a xeriscape consists of a cactus and a couple of rocks surrounded by gravel. Obviously, a xeriscape can be much more than that.

In the beautifully designed private garden of the Richardson home an aesthetically appealing yet functional patio provides a transition between home and garden. This garden places all higher maintenance plantings needing supplemental water within the privacy of the backyard. Kathryn and I designed this garden several years ago.

A Montmorency pie cherry tree and a dwarf peach tree provide fresh fruit in season. The fruit trees are adjacent to the patio in the photo above.

The Richardson home also features a small section of the backyard garden devoted to vegetables such as tomatoes and chili peppers. Blue Penstemon strictus, and yellow Aquilegia chrysantha (yellow columbine) are native wildflowers mixed in with the vegetables.

In the front yard of the Richardson home we see a water conserving xeriscape of native wildflowers, shrubs, and succulents in dramatic contrast to the lush greenness of the private backyard. This portion of the garden faces south and is exposed to the intense heat of full desert sun. The function of the dry streambed is to direct and control excess rainwater from summer thunderstorms.

One aspect of gardening in the high desert of New Mexico is that most of the rainfall occurs during the “monsoon season” in the summertime. Snow in winter also provides some water, but most of the water arrives in torrential summer thunderstorms. All the precipitation (snow, hail, rain) that runs off the roof of the house is captured by downspouts and fed into cisterns which store the water in this garden. An extensive drip-trickle system distributes the water to organically grown vegetables.

Another water management technique is the sunken garden shown here. The rainwater and snowmelt which runs off of impervious surfaces such as the roof of the house is directed into these pit gardens which are sunken well below grade. A Russian olive tree rooted in the bottom of the pit shades the garden and provides a moist, shady microclimate for the plants surrounding it.

This adobe wall and dramatic blue gate provide access to a small urban garden featuring permeable paving using flagstones and creeping thyme. Permeable paving allows precipitation to percolate into groundwater without being shunted off into municipal stormwater drainage systems.

Today we pay tribute to David’s father, Lawrence Edwin Deardorff, who passed away on May 11 at the age of 97. Larry first took David into the garden when he was 6 years old, and he learned about the world of plants at his father’s side. Larry was an avid gardener his entire life, and became our partner when David and I owned Island Biotropix, an orchid nursery and tissue culture lab in Hawaii. Thank you, Dad. We will miss you terribly.

David wrote this memory of his Dad last year and we’d like to share it with you today:

 My father’s huge hands scooped a small hole in the rich garden soil and placed a tomato seedling in it. He mopped his brow, sweating in the humid afternoon of an Ohio spring. As instructed, I knelt beside him, scraped soil around the root ball with my small eight year old hands, and pressed it down. My first lesson in how to be a good provider. A man’s job.  Our backyard vegetable garden became an important source of food for a big family with a meager income.

 Dad hammered a wooden stake into the ground beside the plant, showing me how to place the stake to avoid damaging the roots. More interested in completing my bug collection than in embracing the moment, my mind wandered and precious moments with my father melted away like winter snow.

 I loosely tied three or four strips of an old sheet to each stake, optimistically anticipating the eventual height of the tomato plants. As spring passed into summer the tomato patch became a jungle and helping Dad tie each plant to its stake as the plant grew taller was my responsibility.

 On a hot summer afternoon when Dad was at work, I walked into the garden alone. “Keep Out” he had decreed. Ah, but he was not home and I was a bad boy.

 The evocative aroma of the tomato plants enveloped me as I brushed past their leaves. Taller than me, the exuberant vines hid me as I hunted for bugs. Large green fruit hung down in clusters on all sides. A solitary fire-engine red tomato, like a buoy in that sea of green, called out to me. Furtively, I snatched it from the vine.

The fruit radiated heat from the sun into my hands.  I took a bite. The flavor exploded in my mouth. Incredibly complex acidity, sweetness, and aroma. It was magnificent, and so vivid it is burned into my memory banks. I have never forgotten the taste of that forbidden fruit.

 When Dad came home he went directly to the garden. I’m sure he’d been dreaming about that ripe tomato, the first of the season, all day long. He must have stared in disbelief at the empty space where it had been. I can imagine the storm clouds gathering in his face and almost hear thunderous bellowing that came after. But I wasn’t there to see. Long gone, I played at a neighbor’s house, and missed the outburst.

Later that evening, at supper, Dad brooded, certain that one of us children had stolen his tomato. His dark mood infected the house. He didn’t know which of us had done it. All of us were suspect. Safe behind Mom’s protection, all my sisters maintained their innocence. As of course, did I.

 We moved out west in 1957, where summer nights are cool and dry, and not as friendly to tomatoes. I’ve grown tomatoes in the west for more than fifty years, but I’ve never duplicated the sensational taste or size of that stolen tomato of my childhood.

 Dad planted a vegetable garden every year. He even bought the vacant lot next door and turned that into food production as well. As he aged he began to complain about the hard work. Each year he swore he would never plant a garden again and yet, by summer his garden would always be in full production. Throughout the growing season he distributed baskets of onions, squash, beans and tomatoes to all of his children.

As I matured and put down roots thousands of miles away to found my own family, my father and I remained close. We conversed for hours about orchids, birch trees, and tomatoes. We debated the merits of fertilizers, hand tools, and special cultivars. I convinced him to try native wildflowers in the flower beds, he convinced me to grow his favorite open-pollinated pimiento. The garden has been a conduit for our love for almost sixty years. 

 Over all that time I never told Dad that I was the one who ate that tomato. He would laugh about it now, if it were possible for him to understand me. But it’s too late.

After ninety six years he’s gone away, leaving his body behind. The doctors call it senile dementia, not Alzheimer’s, but the result is the same. He has no memory of any of his children, of his wife of seventy-one years, or of anything to do with gardening. I am a stranger to him now. Just a nice guy who brought him the last ripe tomato of the season.

Garden Art means different things to different people.

In the vegetable garden it can take the form of a screen to mask the compost bin, or a painting on the side of the tool shed. Some of us – and by us I mean gardeners – take care to lay out our herb gardens to create patterns that please the eye. Then we add decorative elements that bring us joy or remind us where the time has flown.

Herbs join flowers, ceramic fish, and a sun-dial in this garden in Santa Fe, NM

Most of the time garden art means a sculptural element that we add to gardens as focal points, as whimsical elements, to make statements, or as mementoes. Focal points work especially well when space is limited and the city encroaches just outside the garden walls.

Alert to the urban sounds just beyond the fence, bronze deer bring a welcome reminder of the natural world to a pocket garden in Portland, OR.

Focal points also serve to draw us along the garden path, sometimes giving us pleasant surprises.

We take a turn around a newly-installed garden in Port Ludlow, WA where a civic-minded resident transformed his empty lot into an informal neighborhood park.

We appreciate the bold statements some art makes. It draws our attention to elements of the context in which a garden sits, to contributions of indigenous people, to the past from which the garden derives.

The courtyard of a museum in Santa Fe NM reminds us of the cultural context from which much of the art and gardens of New Mexico grow.

Whimsy plays a vital role in the choice of garden art. It brings magic and mystery to gardens, and enhances the joy of growing flowers, herbs, and trees.

There be dragons among the gaillardia, yarrow, rosemary, and apples in this Santa Fe, NM garden.

But I think we love it best when the garden is the art and its plants serve as sculpture, form, and function. David and I designed the informal park in Port Ludlow I mentioned above. It is such a delight to take a blank slate and transform earth and light, soil and water into a lovely place to be.

We invite you to share your stories of the greenworld, and welcome you to join us at one of our stops on the road. See our events page for all the details. If you have a favorite spot we should not miss, please let us know.

As many of you may realize by now, while David and I are avid gardeners, our passion is the gateway to nature that the garden provides. As we arrive in New Mexico, so does spring, with all its chaotic and unpredictable weather. Red buds bloom along with plums, lilacs, and cottonwood. And then it snows, and gardeners and farmers worry about their incipient apricots, cherries, and apples.

As I look out the window, reluctant to venture out into the chilly morning, I muse about the birds that flit among the branches of street trees. Barely visible as they industriously seek their morning fare, I wonder how the birds passed the cold night. Have they built nests and laid eggs yet?  My mind meanders to thoughts of Birds and Their Trees.

It seems to me that birds have a very intimate relationship with trees. Trees provide home, security, and often, food. As we travel down the west coast on our book tour, we encounter cormorants nesting in Monterey Cypress (Cupressus macrocarpa) at Pismo Beach on the California Coast. In all the years I have watched cormorants carrying on – in Baja California, in the Pacific Northwest, in Alta California, and even in the bosque along the Rio Grande – I have never seen a nesting colony. We are enchanted. I enjoy the irony that the birds have chosen a semi-urban setting to raise their babies.

In Arizona, as we make our way toward New Mexico, we stop for a late picnic. In the quiet, not too far from the less-traveled blue highway, birds rustle the grasses. We hold still, wondering what might appear. A flicker of brown wings. I slowly raise my binoculars, while David brings his camera to his eye. A bird bursts from the grass and alights in a cholla cactus (Opuntia sp). We are well-acquainted with this bird – a cactus wren – whose life revolves around the sustenance that the cactus provides.

When we cross the border into New Mexico, we are enveloped by an oak-pine forest. Taking a short hike off the road we stop to enjoy the peace of an oak woodland (Quercus emoryi). The leaves twitch with life, but we are not sure what we’ve seen. A flash of blueish gray. A beady eye. A flutter of wings as the bird lands to get a better look at us. This Mexican Jay proves to be a people watcher. Perhaps others have shared their picnic with him. I snap his picture before he tires of us. What is his relationship with the oak? I am sure the Jay loves its acorns. Does he nest among its leafy branches as well?

We pass through the Gila National Forest and we stop at a favorite birding spot. I hear sounds that I recognize. I slice an orange and lay pieces of it on a white-washed stone wall near the trail. We step back into the dense copse. I hold the camera to one eye and watch the forest with the other. We don’t wait long. Our reward for quiet patience arrives. Warily, the Gila Woodpecker approaches the orange slices. He is vigilant in case this is a trap. I snap his picture and he hears the shutter. He pecks the orange slice, and then disappears into the forest. What bird has a more intimate relationship with trees than a woodpecker?

Trees form the backbone of our gardens. They provide the skeletal structure, and these bones invite wildlife to visit. These wild creatures provide invaluable services. Birds, for instance, provide insect control and fertilizer. And if we, in turn, offer shelter and food, we stand to make great gains.  We help create healthy habitat; we defragment the eco-system in which we reside, no matter where that is; and we heal our relationship with the natural world.

Do you have a story of trees or birds to share? We invite you to share your stories of the greenworld, and welcome you to join us at one of our stops on the road. See our events page for all the details. If you have a favorite spot we should not miss, please let us know.

San Diego, CA – We visit the San Diego Botanical Garden, in Encinitas, where we find many treasures including a small Permaculture Demonstration Garden. Permaculture, a concept developed originally by Bill Mollison of Australia, is a contraction of “Permanent and Agriculture”. It is a very rich system that stresses the use of perennial rather than annual plants, and employs many techniques that can be put into practice in small suburban lots as well as on large farms.

The Botanical Garden has a great example of a “keyhole” garden. The keyhole design, a Permaculture concept, features a single path leading to a central circle with shorter spokes of smaller paths radiating out from the center like petals on a flower. This design makes the entire planted area accessible from a single pathway, maximizing the planting area available for both edible and ornamental crops. Vegetables, flowers, and herbs are interplanted in a polyculture mix that helps to discourage insect pests and fungal diseases. Polycultures work because no plant’s nearest neighbor is the same as itself. This helps to prevent an insect pest or a fungal pathogen from leapfrogging from one plant to the next and wreaking havoc throughout your garden.

We also seize the opportunity to visit one of the “Edible Schoolyard” programs in the area at Cardiff Elementary School in Cardiff-by-the-Sea near Encinitas. Edible Schoolyards, a movement cfreated by Alice Waters of Berkely restaurant Chez Panise fame, is a national program for developing food production systems in local schools where kids can learn a variety of skills in addition to learning how to grow food. Cardiff Elementary received a generous grant from the Rob Machado Foundation for their garden. The grant funds allowed them to update the main garden site, including new equipment, irrigation system, and signage. The kids developed a “school-to-restaurant” pilot program. Students selected what to grow based on which crops a restaurant actually used. They harvested vegetables such as lettuce, carrots, and radishes, along with edible flowers and sold them to a local restaurant.

We also make two bookstore appearances in the San Diego area. The staff at Warwick’s, in La Jolla, are eager to share the book with their customers. We describe how we developed the book, and then hold a plant clinic at which we diagnose some plant problems that attendees have brought in. This is a lively group who really enjoys choosing their own adventure, as they use the diagnostic flow charts in the book. We look at the symptoms, answer the questions in the flow charts, and pretty soon we solve the mystery. These folks are not surprised to learn that becoming a plant detective is really fun.

In Coronado we’re at Bay Books, where people line up with baggies full of bits of plants in trouble for us to look at and help them figure out what has gone wrong. We use our book and show them how simple it is to discover the answer to their problems. And then we show them how to find a safe organic solution to fix the problem.

If you have a favorite spot we should not miss, please let us know. We invite you to share your stories of the greenworld, and welcome you to join us at one of our stops on the road. See our events page for all the details (www.ddandkw.com/events)

David and I pack our belongings and prepare to leave our friend’s house in Arcata, California. To add drama, I might have added “meager” to describe our belongings, but that would not be accurate. We’ve brought plenty of comfort items on this road trip.

Miner's lettuce

A delicious salad of wild miner's lettuce.

We arrived in Arcata the day before from McMinnville, where we had our last bookstore event in Oregon. We stopped in Corvallis at the Great Harvest Bread Company to stock up on Dakota bread – a favorite of mine. We pulled off the road at Illinois River Forks State Park south of Grants Pass for a picnic, and discovered a bumper crop of miner’s lettuce (Claytonia perfoliata, in the portulaca family), with which we made a beautiful salad to go with our sandwiches.

Soon after, we entered the Great Redwood Forests of California’s North Coast, and quickly learned why this is called the “Redwood Curtain”.  The road twists and turns like a serpent, slithering its way through majestic trees. I wonder at what they must have witnessed. I ache for the wisdom I believe they must possess. I don’t know that they are any wiser than a box of rocks; I just believe they must be.

The road through the redwood curtain

Our schedule requires that we move on too quickly, yet the drive is so much longer than I thought it would be. Still, by evening we are in Arcata, at our friend’s. Her house sits on the edge of Arcata Marsh in a co-housing community that appreciates the treasure that lies just beyond. Birds haunt the edges of their garden. Some lead private, secretive lives; others are extroverts, visiting the garden frequently to devour pests that would eat their fill of vegetables.

We spend a quiet evening, strolling beside the marsh, seeing the sights of the sleepy town, where students at Humboldt State are away on spring break. We retire early to rest for our drive the next day. We pack our abundant belongings into our van and set off for Mendocino.

We drive the Avenue of Giants and enjoy another day in the company of towering trees. Individual trees that have lived a thousand years. A forest that has evolved over many millennia, since the last ice age.  I suspect there are secrets to success hidden in the depths of the forest. We stop to walk through the Founder’s Grove, and I place my hand on an enormous trunk. I feel the pulse of its vascular system. Water pulled from the roots by the trans-evaporation of its leaves. The water carries nutrients from the microcosmic world at the tree’s feet. A complex system that supports the deceptively simple “lifestyle” of the Giant Sequoia.

Gigantic, awe-inspiring trees, redwoods capture the imagination

We have time for only a short hike, but we grab the opportunity to inhale the scent of the forest, and to gather what knowledge we can from the presence of the great trees.

The allure of the sea beckons, and our tight schedule dictates our early afternoon arrival in Mendocino. A tiny town perched on the very edge of the continent. Christie and Michael welcome us to the Gallery Bookshop on Main Street. We enjoy wine and cheese and artisan crackers with guests who arrive with plants in peril and excellent questions.

Christie tells me she received anonymous calls beforehand from plant-friendly folk who asked if they could bring their marijuana plants for diagnosis to our plant clinic. She told them they could, but none of them come this evening. Instead questions revolve around houseplants, container plants, and problems that show up early in the season. Perfect.

Polyculture: Planting different kinds of plants next to each other keeps pests from finding their favorite food, and prevents disease from spreading easily.

There is also lively interest in food production (in the front yard, back yard, or in containers), and we share some secrets to preventing plant problems. Beyond our mantra of “put the right plant in the right place” (through which a plant thrives in a location that meets its needs for light, soil, water, and temperature), we discuss polyculture, rotation, and attracting beneficial wildlife.

Every event gives us the opportunity to make new friends. We enjoy the chance to meet and talk with like-minded people. And the drive gives us the opportunity to experience the magnificence of the California coast. What could be better?

If you have a favorite spot we should not miss, please let us know. We invite you to share your stories of the greenworld, and welcome you to join us at one of our stops on the road. See our events page for all the details (www.ddandkw.com/events)

Village Books in Bellingham, Washington, hosted our first bookstore appearance of the Great ‘Here Come the Plant Docs’ Book Tour of 2010. There is something very comforting about beginning such a venture talking about a book surrounded by good books, in the company of bibliophiles and phytophiles.

On this, my first trip to Bellingham, I discovered what a delightful town it is. Kathy, at the Village Inn, greeted us with an enthusiastic, “Oh, I should have recognized you. I have your book.”  Making us feel a little like the Olympic athletes who were also staying there (overflow from the games in Vancouver, just across the border). Naturally this welcome warmed my heart immediately and made me very predisposed to love Bellingham.

Robert, our host at Village Books, was equally kind and welcoming at this great bookstore filled not only with great books, but intelligent readers. I overheard some fascinating discussions about books as I wandered the store. As wanton book-o-holics David and I had to be very careful not to fill our van with books.  This may have been a dangerous place to begin the tour. But we survived. And we only bought four books. Whew.

 We had a good turnout for the talk and even sold and signed some books We got some great questions, such as: “What is the white stuff covering the soil in our houseplant pots?” Naturally we asked some questions and found that these folks were new to growing plants. We asked about their water and fertilizer practices, because we thought perhaps that the white substance was salt build-up in the potting media. But no. So we asked if tiny black bugs flew up into their faces when they moved the plants? Yes. Okay, those are fungus gnats. And is the white stuff soft and fluffy? Yes. Okay, that is a fungus that grows on the potting media. Use a mulch such as decorative stones or sand on top and that will cut down on the fungus problem and help to control the fungus gnats. We signed their new book and they went away happy.

We ate breakfast the next morning with a flowering plum. The early spring exuberance encourages and energizes us for the road ahead.

Today we are in Philadelphia, about to venture into the huge Flower Show at the convention center next door to our hotel. We traveled all day yesterday to get here. Got a great night’s sleep and are ready to roll. We look forward to giving a lecture tomorrow (March 3, 2010) here at the Flower Show.

We invite you to share your stories of the greenworld, and welcome you to join us at one of our stops on the road. See our events page for all the details (www.ddandkw.com/events)

Kathryn Wadsworth

A February Friday, unusually warm and sunny. Spring is here. Friends already lay out their soaker hoses, sow seeds indoors, and move seedlings out into their cold-frames. We’re going to miss all that this year, as we travel to talk about our book, and other topics from the greenworld. We won’t bemoan the loss too much. Surely an exciting journey lies ahead. David and I love a road trip.

The second event on our book tour is behind us. David and I gave a talk at the Port Townsend, WA public library last week. This low-key chat with our “homies” in the town where we live was a perfect send-off for the tour. Next week we’ll be in Bellingham.

At the library we talked about how we developed the book – our book – from inchoate thoughts about the questions we must ask when someone else asks us, “What’s Wrong With My Plant?” A very common question, btw.

Looking at the notes, it seems unlikely that we could corral the wayward notions and make a logical flow of questions, answers, and diagnoses, doesn’t it?  We started by recognizing that other references about plant problems require that you know the name of your plant. Lots of us don’t know this. Of course, David does, because he is a botanist whose PhD is in plant systematics – the very people who make up these names. But he doesn’t count.

What we see on our plants are symptoms, not Latin names. Symptoms – like spots, or holes, or distortions, which we see on plant parts – like the leaves, the stems, or the fruit. So, we sorted through the symptoms, the plant parts on which symptoms occur, and found tell-tale characteristics that illustrate a certain disorder, disease, or pest.

It took time, some nutrients, some nurturing, but we made it. It turned out alright.

As we prepare to travel, we’re going through a similar process. Sorting through belongings. What to take? What to put in storage? What to get rid of as a bad idea. (Whose idea was it to buy that hideous plaid jacket anyway?)

We identify the tell-tale characteristics of intrinsic value or usefulness. We store possessions that are truly useful or have sentimental value. We take those that will help us succeed on the road. We also take those that will bring joy to the journey, such as the new little teapot and cups. It’s kind of fun figuring out what we really care about, and lightening our load of extraneous possessions.  

In other words: Spring Cleaning

We invite you to share your stories of the greenworld, and welcome you to join us at one of our stops on the road. See our events page for all the details (www.ddandkw.com/events)

Kathryn Wadsworth

Well, we did it! Last week we held the first event of our book tour with a talk at the Northwest Flower and Garden Show. There may be no better place to get inspired for the road ahead.

Display gardens at big shows always have an idea or two that can be incorporated into small gardens and home landscaping. Vendors always have enough stuff to sink several container ships, yet they also make attractive displays, offering useful tools, lovely plants, and often, solid information. We visited with the folks at Seattle Tilth and the Northwest Horticultural Society. We admired some of the new, more ergonomic pruning and digging tools.

We particularly appreciated the well-executed designs of two displays: “A Family’s Little Farm in the City,” designed by Jessica and Noah Bloom. NW Bloom( www.nwbloom.com) and Seattle Tilth (www.seattletilth.org) collaborated on the installation; and “Crops for Clunkers,” designed by Colin McCrate, Brad Halm, and Noel Stout of the Seattle Urban Farm Company (www.seattleurbanfarmco.com)

Jessica Bloom’s design provided detailed views of the many creative ways for any home gardener to grow their own food in a small urban or suburban setting. Using recycled materials, one can create a raised bed out of almost anything.

Crops for Clunkers, from the Seattle Urban Farm Company displayed the most creative use of recycled material. The installation also demonstrated extremely useful techniques for any small space garden. We saw a very clear example that you can use almost virtually anything as a container. Techniques such as the vertical planting bed along the side of the truck illustrate what you can do on the side of a building, on the balcony of an apartment, or in containers indoors (if you choose the right plant material, of course).

Gardens also provide refuge, and we often venture into the greenworld to seek serenity.

Wherever we have lived – the Desert Southwest, the Pacific Northwest, and Hawaii – David and I have always grown our own food. We also experience our garden as the gateway to the natural world. We combine food, medicinal herbs, and flowers for ourselves and beneficial insect partners. We grow polycultures for both sustenance and beauty.

We invite you to share your stories of the greenworld, and welcome you to join us at one of our stops on the road. See our events page for all the details (www.ddandkw.com/events)

Kathryn Wadsworth

David and I are wandering the Northwest Flower and Garden Show this week, and giving a talk on Sunday (February 7, 2010). The display gardens are beautiful, as always. Some are even spectacular.  But only two garden installations serve to truly inspire an urban gardener in these times. Since David and I are particularly interested in sustainable, organic food production for urban dwellers we found that these two gardens had the most to offer: “A Family’s Little Farm in the City” and “The Truck Farm.” (More on that in my next blog). “A Family’s Little Farm in the City” certainly lives up to its promise: to “demonstrate how a family can live sustainably in the city.” A small dwelling – actually a barn, but it could be modified – with solar panels, a quiet patio serving as a front porch, vegetable beds, an edible forest, compost bins, rain barrels, and bee hives. All thrive on this tiny plot of land.

I love this chicken tractor. The hen industriously scratches and pecks, tilling the soil for you. She can retire to her little shed to lay her eggs. Talk about a valuable partner!!  This is probably my favorite item in the display.

We’ve built cold frames from discarded windows for thirty years, but it is really treat to see one so well-built and attractive.

Rain barrels make sense no matter where you live. There are so many places in the world where water is a problem. Anywhere along the west coast of North America, the summers are dry. In the Southwest U.S. it’s dry all the time. Even the east coast of the U.S. experiences prolonged periods of drought. Catch water off any roof and storing it for later use is a great idea.

And what garden would be complete without some domestic animal companions and helpers?