The Rainforest Garden

Why Your Mango Tastes Awful

noreply@blogger.com (Steve Asbell) — Sat, 26 May 2012 13:49:00 +0000

Okay, so this isn’t a typical gardening blog post, but it is about tropical fruit and mangoes are the most popular fruit in the world, believe it or not. Before you correct me with apples or oranges, remember the vast population that lives in prime mango growing real estate below the equator. Yet many American’s mango experiences tend to be disappointing and stringy, in the worst case tasting bland or turpentine, and in the best case just tasting adequate.

First of all, the mangoes most commonly sold at your grocery store are not necessarily the best ambassadors of all the 'king of fruit' has to offer. Those gorgeous big green fruits with blushes of orange and red might look delicious, but they are in fact the lowly and inferior 'Tommy Atkins' mango, a durable yet stringy and insipid variety that pales in comparison to most other mangoes. I bought one to draw for its wonderful colors, but there’s only a small chance that I’ll get around to eating it.

A mango imposter!

"But I love my mangoes!" you say. That's okay, just be aware that there are even better ones out there, especially in the case of Indian mangoes. Look for the small, bright yellow ones labeled 'Alfonso' and buy one the first chance you get, because they’re special. They haven't been allowed in the United States since the 70's, thanks to a ban on Indian imported fruit.

In 2007 George W. Bush signed a nuclear treaty with India and told the world that "the U.S. is looking forward to eating Indian mangoes." and South Asian expats all over the United States could finally lick their lips in anticipation of a taste of home. The yellow cashew shaped mangoes aren't as interesting to look at, but they have a much smoother texture and more complex flavor than the ones you're used to. With few exceptions, mango lovers can agree that they taste better in every respect. Look for them in spring at your local Indian grocery or Whole Foods, but if you don't see the Alfonso you're at least likely to encounter another mango worth trying.

The Ataulfo mango is a close relative of the famous Indian mango, but this Mexican variety's widespread availability makes it the second most popular mango in the United States. Marketed as 'Honey' or 'Champagne' mangoes, these are much easier to find than the Indian imports and still taste much better than poor Tommy Atkins.

Surprisingly, even the first 'Honey' mango I've tried tasted horrible. It was like biting into a peach soaked in turpentine but this had nothing to do with the variety; it was just overripe. How can you pick a perfectly ripe mango from the produce aisle and avoid my puckered fate? Supposedly the skin of the mango should be colorful and give slightly when squeezed, and it should have a sweet and floral fragrance. Sadly, I somehow manage to occasionally buy fruit that passes the smell test and still end up with a mouthful of straight up nasty. I'm unlucky that way.

As is the case with most fruit, fresher is always better. While mangoes can still convert the starches to sugar and ripen after they've been picked, those that haven't been plucked until ripe taste the best, so you'll find the best mangoes right on the tree. Miami is a good place to sample fruit, and so are the Philippines. Robert Bornstein, who was nice enough to answer some of my mango questions, directed me to an article he wrote about the Fairchild Botanic Garden's world famous mango festival in July. There you can sample some of the world's best varieties for free, try gourmet recipes and purchase living trees to start your own crop. Even if a trip to the tropics is out of your budget, just give the unassuming yellow mango a try next time. It might not be pretty enough to draw, but at least it's good enough to eat.

Looks pretty, but doesn't taste so pretty. Drawing by me. :)

Some of my favorite sketches on Saturday Night Live featured a character played by Chris Kattan by the name of Mango. He was a vaguely Hispanic male exotic dancer with a pink beret and skimpy clothes who tried to lure in unwitting men like Ben Affleck and Garth Brooks before turning them away with lines like "Can you know the mighty ocean? Can you lasso a star from the sky? Can you say to a rainbow... 'Hey, stop being a rainbow for a second'? No! Such is Mango!" and then "You cannot have a ze Mango!"

Tommy Atkins mangoes are coincidentally a lot like the character Mango. They lure you in with their exotic colors and outrageous reputation, but at the end of the day they turn you away and you eventually realize that you fell for the equivalent of a little man in drag.

Identifying a Passionflower

noreply@blogger.com (Steve Asbell) — Wed, 23 May 2012 21:50:00 +0000

On the 23rd of every month Christopher Tidrick explores the history behind the plants in his garden and calls the meme Linnaeus Day in honor of modern horticulture's founding father, Carl Linnaeus. I think it's a great idea, so I'm joining him with a post about a plant that's very near and dear to my heart; my mother's favorite flower in the garden and the one I was drawing for her right when she passed away.

At least it seemed like an innocuous enough plant to research. After all, it's been in cultivation since the 1800's and is still one of the favorite passion flowers around. When Passiflora authority Miles Irvine notified me that the drawing I named Passiflora alatocaerulea should have been labeled Passiflora x belotii, however, I started to realize that there was more to this flower than met the eye.

Used with permission from passionflow.co.uk

For such a commonly grown passionflower, Passiflora x belotii has a confusing past and a slough of cumbersome names to confuse us poor gardeners. It is a hybrid between Passiflora alata and Passiflora caerulea, but nobody seems to know when the two were first crossed. Since this blog post is part of the Linnaeus Day meme, it's interesting to note that Linnaeus himself was the first to describe Passiflora caerulea way back in 1753. What's even more remarkable; Linnaeus included it in his very first edition of the Species Plantarum, a publication on par with Darwin's On the Origins of Species as one of the most important contributions to biology. Linnaeus attained knighthood that very same year.

Passiflora x belotii has officially been around since 1824, but since then there has been a lot of disagreement on both what to name this passion flower, and what it is to begin with. It was originally named Passiflora alato-caerulea by Lindley, but has since been renamed again and again. Here's the kicker: While P. belotii is now recognized as a cross between P. caerulea and P. alata, it was also thought to be a cross between P. edulis and P. quadrangularis amongst several other combinations.

If you'd like to buy one of these at the garden center, you're just as likely to find it for sale under the names Passiflora x alatocaerulea, Passiflora 'Empress Eugenie,' 'Emperatrice Eugenia' or one of a long list of both real and imagined hybrids. 'Empress Eugenie' is the most alluring name to be sure, since it refers to the last empress of France. Unfortunately, the many translations and misspellings make this most romantic name just as shaky as any other.

So why is it so hard for us to pick a name and just go with it? Buckle up for the next few paragraphs, because it's about to get nerdy. First of all, the most reliable way to identify a plant is by the morphology of its flowers, and those of passion flowers are ridiculously intricate and complex. The shapes and arrangements of buds, leaves and nodes also help, but the identity usually isn't revealed until the first bloom opens. To make things even more difficult, they're also totally inconsistent and fickle, showing an immense amount of variation within the same species.

Hybrids like P. x belotii inherit traits of both parents, but each cross results in a different combination of those traits. For example, one flower could take after P. alata and inherit a deep pink blush on the sepals, or another cross might result in colors resembling the other parent, P. caerulea. Identifying passionflower hybrids is a bit like picking out the parents of inbred hillbillies on a daytime talk show, without the benefit of a paternity test.

The official plant databases can't even seem to agree on P. belotii and they list it as a synonym for Passiflora alato-caerulea... which doesn't really mean much, since even P. alato-caerulea is considered to be an unresolved name. After learning this little twist I decided to consult further with Myles Irving, who pointed out that these online databases aren't necessarily the best when it comes to listing hybrids. Since Myles is an experienced passion flower breeder who's managed to unite the world's wild and crazy bunch of passion flower growers through an online journal, the internet's most exhaustive passion flower resource and even a Facebook group, I would tend to believe that he knows what he's talking about.

The drawing I was working on when my mother passed.

I used to float passionflowers in bowls for my mother.

I quickly became swept up in this passionflower's rich and hopelessly muddy history, and soon forgot all about the impact it's made in my own life. This was one of the first plants I added to my mother's garden, given pride of place in the very middle of the yard so that she could easily see it from her wheelchair. Since passion flowers are best enjoyed up close, I would clip off the individual flowers to float in little bowls filled with water. The flowers would just float there like water lilies, perfuming the room with a citrusy scent while she painted and wrote her 'grace notes.' Often a little black ant or two would accompany the flower indoors, and they would ramble about on this little spaceship of an island until my mom tossed them back into the yard.

When my mother lay on her deathbed, I started drawing one of these passion flowers to bring her some happy memories in a dark and scary time. With a yellow gown, surgical mask and gloves as a defense against infections, I showed my nearly blind mother the faint but meticulous outlines of a passion flower with no name. Eagerly, she gasped and clutched onto my drawing as if she was grasping on to the life she knew with all of her strength. The paper became creased in her shaky and unreliable hand, and with frustration and blindness she forfeited the memory to me, telling me that she would just have to look at it when it's done. She knew nothing of the last empress of France or Linnaeus's swan song to science, but for my mother, Passiflora x belotii was known simply as "that beautiful passionflower."

DIY Beach Terrarium

noreply@blogger.com (Steve Asbell) — Mon, 21 May 2012 21:27:00 +0000

Rather than just tell you about my beach themed terrarium, I decided to design a little tutorial with simple instructions! I cannot overemphasize how fast and easy this project was to create, but I will tell you that it takes all of two minutes to assemble. I'll show you landlubbers where to purchase the seashells and air plants, tell you how to care for it, and also how to personalize it to fit your own unique style.

Here are a few tips to make the most of your terrarium.

Use Store Bought Sand. Not dirt from your garden, not potting mix and not sand collected from the beach. While beach collected sand sure is pretty, it also contains salt residue that can kill your Tillandsias. You can find sand at your local craft store or pet store.

Wash the Shells. Like beach sand, seashells can carry dried up salt from the seawater. If the shells are otherwise clean smelling, just rinse them in a bucket of water for a day and let them dry afterwards. If they smell nasty, just toss them. You can soak them in bleach, but it's more trouble than it's worth... especially if there's a dried up creature inside!

Use Epiphytes: They tolerate indoor lighting and infrequent waterings with ease. I've used Tillandsias, an epiphytic cactus (Hatiora) and a stem of a milkweed relative called Dischidia. You can buy Tillandsias at www.airplant.com, Dischidias at www.epiphytica.com and Hatiora (and many other epiphytes) from www.tropiflora.com. Succulents are tricky since they tend to bake inside their dish if they get the full sun they prefer, but they also work well.

Avoid Tapwater. City water is often 'hard' or filled with salt and mineral deposits that will end up making your terrarium a crusty mess. Like many of you, I'll still end up using tapwater out of necessity, but use rainwater or filtered water whenever you can.

Make it Your Own. Use your favorite beach finds (I've used sea glass) or make your terrarium in an entirely different theme! Try a desert theme, forest theme, or even create a miniature garden The sky's the limit!

Still have questions? Feel free to ask away by email or by leaving a comment below!

Bonsai with Air Plants

noreply@blogger.com (Steve Asbell) — Fri, 18 May 2012 18:13:00 +0000

I know that the bonsai purists will gag at this idea, but until my new Schefflera arboricola specimen fills in, Tillandsias seem right at home perched beneath their canopy; like little bromeliads under a banyan tree. Besides, since when did I ever follow the rules? If the goal is to emulate the tree's environment, then the air plants are certainly preferable to the standard issue bare gravel, since you aren't likely to see bare gravel in the rainforest. Now I just need some moss...

I received the bonsai at my doorstep right before we left for our trip, and I didn't recognize the name at the end of the heartfelt card that was included. Eventually I realized that it was from one of my mother's nurses who went above and beyond for her. Now that my mom has passed and I have no one to care for, this bonsai will help me through my 'empty nest syndrome.' Like my mom, it will take on a tortured shape from its circumstances (while staying beautiful, of course), and as a result, it will need a little extra attention. While the gift has given me lots of smiles, I have to admit that my first reaction upon receiving it was to call my mom and tell her all about my gift.

Ahem. Where was I?

Anyways, I was especially thrilled because the Schefflera is an ideal plant for a tropical plant lover like myself to train into a bonsai. I plan on letting it form aerial roots to take on a banyan shape, and then I'll repot it into a larger container. Maybe some moss would look nice too!

While scheffleras make excellent houseplants and survive dim situations, placing it in the bright indirect light of my balcony will result in smaller leaves and more vigorous growth. The leaves will be clipped back once the plant has acclimated to its new home, and I might even completely defoliate and tip prune the plant if it seems healthy enough. That way I can begin planning its shape and training.

Have any of you tried bonsai before?

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Garden Inspiration from St. Augustine

noreply@blogger.com (Steve Asbell) — Thu, 17 May 2012 22:56:00 +0000

How are gardens in St. Augustine different from any others in Northern Florida? Well, to begin with, they're tropical. Not tropical in the strictest sense, but its coastal location keeps winters gentle enough to grow tropical plants that would perish just inland. History has also been kind to St. Augustine, with influences reaching back to the Spanish occupied 1500's, resulting in a smorgasbord of inspiration for a gardener like myself!

My wife and I embarked on a very short journey to nearby St. Augustine, where we made camp at a decadent bed and breakfast and explored the eclectic and ancient city by foot and by bike. While it was officially an anniversary trip, I'm always on the lookout for great ideas and inspiration, of which St. Augustine has plenty. Pencils and notebooks in hand, we sketched the sights and lost ourselves in a maze of lushly planted gardens and brick roads. It was just the vacation we needed.

A green anole on variegated shell ginger.

Passiflora 'Incense'

These ti plants perfectly complement the paint on this wall.

Mediterranean styled stucco houses sat a mere foot away from wooden British Colonial ones, and gardens sprouted anywhere they could grab a foothold. A row of Cuban buttercups rose out of nothing more than a crack between bricks and a wall, and the bright yellow flowers nodded across the street to window boxes and hanging baskets. Ferns coated the tops of walls and roofs and bougainvillea vines grappled with passionflower vines on palm trees and telephone poles. Nature made a garden anywhere man might have missed, and the look is one of timelessness and antiquity.

Though messy looking, his front yard vegetable garden is kept neat with its coquina walls.

A work in progress for a living history museum, this raised bed garden keeps things more formal.

Where enough space exists for a real garden, homeowners have made the most of their prime real estate. Some have constructed fountains, walls and grottoes out of the coquina limestone, while others have replaced the aptly named St. Augustinegrass lawns with collard greens and squashes.

Red Passionflower climbing a residence's wall.

Creeping fig wrapped around many of the walls, occasionally growing to maturity and growing real figs.

An entire garden fits in a little nook against the cathedral.

A potted Cuban buttercup against the stark white walls of a Greek Orthodox church.

My favorite gardens were the ones that took up the least room, filling the space between the streets and the property's walls. Often these spots have been elevated and held in by another wall against the curb, and sometimes the arrangements have even more levels, providing a world of interest within as little as a foot of depth. House numbers family names are emblazoned on weathered looking plaques, adding to the air of permanence.

Our bed and breakfast, the Bayfront Marin.

The view from our B and B facing the bay. The restaurant across the street lets you feed the fish while you eat!

Our beach cruiser rentals, courtesy of The Bayfront Marin.

Our bed and breakfast (The Bayfront Marin) did have a carpet of grass but the several arching palms and hammock made it seem more like a playground than a run of the mill lawn. We enjoyed sangria and lemonade in the courtyard and nibbled on appetizers and cookies from our swinging bench. The very same bougainvillea that rambled alongside the porch found its way into the dining room and our bedroom as bright purple bracts in folded towels and stems tucked into bud vases. Their garden was beautiful as well as functional. I might also add that everything else about the B and B, from the price to the service, was top notch. One of our favorite amenities was the use of beach cruiser bicycles, which we rode all over the downtown area.

Tillandsias for sale! I bought six.

Bunch grapes in Florida?

Colocasia in an old fountain.

The main tourist attraction was St. George Street, but apart from a few boutiques, a shell shop and a store where we purchased some passionfruit wine, the street was hot, tacky and filled with a mix of screaming kids and lounging homeless men. The city has acknowledged a homeless 'problem,' but for the most part, the vagrants were benign and the ones I briefly talked to were pleasantly surprised that I actually acknowledged them. Many of the shops on St. George Street were nothing more than chains, and the souvenir shops were filled with branded 'Life is Good' merchandise, Crocs and other things that could be bought back home.

The nearby neighborhood of Lincolnville was far more interesting than the faux museums and made up St. George Street because the Victorian houses were real and the live oaks provided welcome shade. This neighborhood was created by freed slaves, named after President Lincoln and eventually became a hotbed for the civil rights movement.They even have a nice civil rights museum in the works, if all goes to plan.

Aviles Street. You can practically hear the Frenchmen and harmonicas.

One of our favorite areas was Aviles Street, and the buildings' weathered facades had a more authentic feel than the glossy Disney-fied shops of St. George Street. Window boxes, container plantings and hanging baskets brought me back to my childhood days in Germany, and a few museums hid beautiful gardens behind their stuccoed walls.

A collage of sketchbook entries from our visit!

The best way to describe the gardens of St. Augustine is 'eclectic,' and everybody's vision of St. Augustine is different. Some homeowners and shopkeepers stay true to the British, Spanish and American colonial influences, while others re-imagine their gardens and homes as if they were designed by Jimmy Buffet. The most thrilling part of St. Augustine for me is its variety; having the opportunity to see several architectural styles and hundreds of different plants in a single neighborhood block. It's a wallop of inspiration for the gardener and artist in a rut.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

The Hot Pink Tin Shed Garden

noreply@blogger.com (Steve Asbell) — Wed, 09 May 2012 15:44:00 +0000

How can you plant a pretty garden around an ugly eyesore? You can either cover it up, divert attention to another area, or in the case of my new apartment planting; make it into a focal point! An ugly tin maintenance shed barges into my planting area like an uninvited guest, jutting out as if by accident. By adding a medley of bright and architectural foliage plants, however, the shed has become the main attraction.

Playing off the modern look of a corrugated tin background, I decided to let bright pink ti plants and hibiscus hybrids show off interesting pink and white leaves. They will eventually grow straight up, (I will stake the hibiscus) staying off the path and against the silver toned wall.

For the middle layer I planted sage green and white 'Aaron' caladiums for a pop of contrast, and some Alocasia 'California' elephant ear rhizomes to echo the plantings around the rest of the garden. They grow upright and will help hide the shed's foundation.

Beneath these plantings are pink pentas and chartreuse sweet potato vine. The sweet potato vine brightens the edge of the path, spreading its electric leaves throughout the gaps while the garden fills in.

In the corner to the right of the shed, I've planted other bold tropicals; split leaf philodendron, California elephant ear and ice cream banana. These will soften the 'jutting' effect of the shed and create a rich and jungly feel, but to keep it from being too dense I've allowed at least a foot between the wall of the laundry room for easy access.

It might not look like much now since many of the ti plants are just canes and the Alocasias are still underground, but once the plantings fill in I'll be sure to give a progress report!

Here are the plants that I planted in front of the tin shed:

Cordyline fruticosa 'Red Sister'
Hibiscus acetosella 'Haight Ashbury'
Hibiscus rosa-sinensis variegata 'Snowflake'
Caladium 'Aaron'
Ipomoea batatas 'Marguerite'
Alocasia odora 'California'
Pentas lanceolata hybrid

The broader view

Snowflake hibiscus could be grown for the foliage alone!

Hibiscus acetosella 'Haight Ashbury's intricate leaves stand out against the tin background.

Pink pentas are the flowers in a foliage dominated planting.

With the exception of the hibiscus.

It isn't a garden until a lizard's moved in.

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Celebrate the Day

noreply@blogger.com (Steve Asbell) — Thu, 03 May 2012 01:06:00 +0000

It would be tempting to say that when she passed on April 30th of 2012 at a mere 50 years old, the world lost a gifted artist, musician, teacher, servant, friend and Lupus advocate. As I look through my mother's daily gratitude journals, or 'Grace Notes,' I know better. Those who were blessed enough to know her could already tell you that her inappropriate happiness had the ability to change lives. That remarkable perspective is what we loved most about her, and now we each have the opportunity to embrace her inexplicable joy and share it to others.

One of Nancy Asbell's serene Florida landscape paintings

Nancy Asbell vowed to treat her painful disease as a blessing, using it to help others in their own everyday struggles. In July of 2008, she gave thanks in her journal for her "disfigured body from disease." and elaborated with "My body isn't pretty by the world's standards. In fact, it puts some people off, especially the sores and scars and bruises on my forearms. But I can use them in a positive way as an advocacy for Lupus awareness."

Here my mom sings the "Lupus Blues" she wrote to uplift her fellow lupies. She was an amazing music teacher.

Every morning that she could muster the strength, my mother took her powerchair to the garden to spend time alone with God and gave thanks for every little detail, be it the opportunity to show love to a grocery store bagger, or the gift of a lizard or butterfly greeting her through the hospital window. She even thanked God for the painful and disfiguring chronic disease of Lupus that ravaged her body because only by her own suffering could she truly understand the suffering of others. These 'Grace Notes' eventually became a constant stream of blog posts and Facebook updates. She reached out to strangers by sending them hand painted notecards and loving words, even when the very act of typing was excruciating and her gaping cellulitis wounds made it hard to compose a coherent thought. She never bragged about it, but she loved to volunteer at nursing homes, and even in poverty she donated ten percent of her profits to promote Lupus research and awareness.

Before lupus with her sister Michele, when they were young.

"Inappropriately happy" to have my help writing illustrated notecards to the hospital's nurses and housekeeping.

Nancy's great commission was to love each and every one of her neighbors, and she hoped that every struggle that she endured would help others to do the same. After she started taking massive amounts of steroids to fight her disease, she slowly became acclimated to her round swollen face and misshapen beanbag-like abdomen and still gave thanks. She then understood what it felt like to judged for her obesity and glared at in grocery stores, and she saw that hurtful insight as a gift. For this and other physical shortcomings she was judged by so many, yet she rarely judged anyone. It was as if she wore a 'fat suit,' except this was no costume. The papery thin skin that tenuously contained her bulging belly became painted with bruises, open wounds and stretch marks. Her arms and legs shifted between hues of ghastly gray, black and blue, and a grotesquely swollen furious red. After her intestine ruptured, she constantly dealt with failed ostomy appliances that couldn't keep up with her ballooning proportions.

Yet she marveled at her body's delicate dance between life and death. She asked the doctors so many questions about her health, but more often than not she asked out of fascination so that she could better educate others. When she was faced with foreclosure, she once blurted out "Now I can help others more because I understand the threat of homelessness!"

This rain lily will always bloom in my mother's memory, joyfully popping up when I least expect it.

This was the last thing that her friends read before her final hospitalization:

"THURSDAY'S GRACE NOTES. PLEASE READ! This is the most important Grace Notes that I have ever written.

After falling out of my wheel chair on Monday left with even more wounds and a damaged and wounded left eye I was given the facts of my diagnosis for the rest of my life due to my chronic wounds. I can not go to large populated events ever. My main heart breaker is church. In my powered wheel chair I can go to a large store, like Publix as long as I do not get close to many other people at the time. No body can visit me at my home if they are sick or have a family member that is sick. I will be losing my house and, my car has been repossessed.

But this is when the weird thing comes in. I am still "inappropriately happy" and still look forward to the next fun day. I still have my art , music, and marketing "job" and totally "work" from home.and I still have people (yes even you) and Jesus will never ever leave my side. The most "horrible" things that I go through the more I can help others because I have gone through them myself.

So I no longer celebrate the day I celebrate each minute. So let's go out there and let's rock our world!

I love you all.

Nancy"

Nancy just a week before she passed, after writing her last grace notes. Clearly she's celebrating the day.

A few days before she gracefully passed, I brought her some edible food and had her write up what would become her final grace notes so that I could share them with the world.

"Hello friends that I miss so much. I am in a rehab center getting stronger every day. It's nice to look out my window every day and it fills my mind with grace notes: Take time to stop and smell the jasmine, do it again. [grateful for] rain pounding in the night, blue and white china and bright yellow sunflowers make me want to paint... my picture of Steve and I at his wedding, finding peace in my own paintings, and my new quilt from Jennifer and her mom, and my 'go to' tote from Steven. It has everything I need, paperwork, and of course, art supplies."

Even her watercolor notecards were drenched in jubilation.

She wasn't without fear, anger and doubt, but her convictions remained strong. "I am angered about Lupus patients' suffering due to lack of friends, education and faith in themselves and God. I am aware that God may call me to return to poor health to minister to others - I would not strive towards it but would honor it if it is God's will. I want Lupus sufferers freed. I am willing to risk my neck for what I believe. I am authorized to work miracles."

When my mother wrote that she was authorized to work miracles, I think that this is what she meant: When she was in a nursing/rehabilitation center, she saw a drooling and vacant looking stroke victim and recalled the paralysis following her own brain stem stroke. She looked the woman square in the eyes and said "I know you are in there. I've been there. I understand" and then watched the emotion well up in her eyes. She was invisible and forgotten, hearing what may have been the only kind words spoken to her in years.

That brave and unabashed decision to reach out and love someone despite the fear of discomfort or rejection was a miracle that we can all perform in our own lives. Miracles are not what you'd expect. They're more than temporary magic tricks, and raising the dead is a pretty weak feat compared to the universal power of compassion. Love is the one true miracle with any lasting power, and we're all capable of doing it. We can all be miracle workers.

As my mom always said, "celebrate the day!" To keep her spirit burning bright, I'll be sharing her attitude of gratitude and a bit of Lupus awareness at the new Celebrate the Day Faceblook page.

Other posts about Nancy:
My Mother is Living...
Falling Forward
The Garden is in the Bag
The World is Your Garden
What Our Mothers Taught Us About Gardening And Life (Guest post)

My Small Space Container Garden

noreply@blogger.com (Steve Asbell) — Wed, 25 Apr 2012 21:44:00 +0000

It's hard to believe that it was just over a year ago when I sent Fern Richardson photos of my balcony garden for her book, Small Space Container Gardens. It's even more unbelievable to see a full page profile of my very own balcony on page 137! While the book is a wonderfully inspiring treasure trove of eye candy, I can't in good conscience give a review since it would be a bit biased. Instead, I'll tell you how my balcony has changed and... what the heck. I'll give a copy to one lucky reader too!

If you like the neat little projects that I've been posting here at The Rainforest Garden, you just have to check out the lush ferns and bromeliads in the chapter devoted to vertical gardening. Or the chapter about succulents. Or edibles. I really do love the whole book, and not just page 137.

The photo of my balcony in Small Space Container Gardens was shot from a distance, and it gives a view of hanging baskets and tillandsias draping down and filling the space. The second photo isn't of my own balcony, but the Woolly Pocket surely wouldn't look out of place! I loved my balcony back then, but it's really come a long way in the last year. Let me give you the grand tour and I'll reward you at the end with a chance to win the book!

Present Day

While the plants are mostly the same, I have since moved the Tillandsias and many of the hanging baskets to let in more of that valuable light, and I've added heavy metal baskets to the ledge to organize and support my burgeoning collection of horticultural treasures.

I've also planted many of my bromeliads and saplings in the apartment complex. Since my mother was losing her home, our property manager was more than willing to let me add a garden of unusual tropical plants to the grounds. The area pictured is essentially devoid of any soil, since the tree's roots have filled every available space. Luckily, these bromeliads and ferns don't need soil! Dendrobiums perfume the air, epiphytic cacti and bromeliads surprise the residents with their sporadic blooms, and the nearby palms, gingers and Alocasias impart a lush tropical feel.

Most recent of the changes to my balcony was the addition of a huge hunk of driftwood which I've planted with an Ardisia, Rhipsalis and bromeliads. Two wall brackets hold the installation in place and evenly distribute the weight. The Ardisia rootball had already been growing sans-container wrapped in sphagnum moss, but now I've tied it to the driftwood and tucked in more moss between the spaces. Wrapping it all up with a bit of twine. Afterwards I tucked in a few bromeliads and checked the time. The whole project took less than thirty minutes, and I still had time to make another rainforest drop!

Okay, so you want to win the book? You don't have to jump through any hoops or anything, just leave a comment and I'll randomly draw a name on May 2nd. Even if you don't win, it's only $13.57 on Amazon, for those of you with both a small garden and a small budget.

The Garden is in the Bag

noreply@blogger.com (Steve Asbell) — Fri, 13 Apr 2012 03:38:00 +0000

I've found a cure for depression, and if you don't believe me, give it a try. Anyone can do this. The majority of those reading this will attest to the therapeutic properties of nature, and there's a whole field of horticultural therapy devoted to bringing happiness and rehabilitation through gardening. While we can't all be horticultural therapists, the joy of nature can be prescribed by anyone. Here's what you do: Clip flowers or leaves from the garden, seal them in bags and deliver them in person to the ones you love.

A note: If your loved one is suffering from severe dementia, stick to herbs and edible plants and consult with the staff first to stay on the safe side.

Have you ever spent much time in a nursing home? They're depressing. Even the nicest facilities with the friendliest staff have an air of hopelessness to them, as if the smell of urine has only been masked with room deodorizer and bleach. Many of the residents will never leave their cramped and shared rooms until they leave this world for the next. Some, like my fifty year old mother, are confined to their beds by illness and can't even step outside to enjoy a breath of fresh air! Those suffering from delirium or dementia have little to connect them to the world that they used to love, and treasured memories quickly become lost in the monotony of long corridors and bland, overcooked food. The friends and family so dear to these patients rarely visit, and when they do show up, they stand in awkward silence trying desperately to avoid the unsettling sights and smells that kept them away in the first place.

One of my mother's bottlebrush trees. This particular tree has blooms that are twice as big as the usual ones.

When my mom checked in to yet another nursing facility, I first visited her old garden and carefully snipped off the flowers and stems of the plants so dear to her. First I clipped the stems of herbs like rosemary, oregano, tarragon and thyme so that she could hold them to her nose, close her eyes, and inhale the fragrant memories of cooking and sitting on her patio. I then looked for anything in bloom: a delicate African iris flower, the big bright red flowers of a bottlebrush tree, and some vivid purple Pericallis flowers. While looking around, I found surprises like a pineapple guava bloom that I wouldn't have noticed otherwise. The most treasured fragrances that I saved were of the honey scented Alyssum 'Sweet Snow' and her beloved confederate jasmine.

An African 'iris' in the shade that rarely blooms thanks to the low light.

The first ever bloom on my mom's feijoa, aka pineapple guava!

I put each 'specimen' in a ziplock bag along with little bits of moistened paper towels to keep them fresh, and gently set them in a grocery bag. While I was out clipping flowers, my wife lovingly packed and organized my mom's makeup and cosmetic supplies, as well as her favorite foods. When we saw my mother, I let her take each bag out one by one as if it were a stocking filled with goodies. She felt the soft stamens of the bottlebrush, held the fragrant herbs and flowers to her nose and marveled at the little pineapple guava blossom that waited three years in the garden to bloom, as if it was preparing for her hour of need.

After we left for the night, my mother was in a lot of pain. She told me that the nurses probably thought she was a druggie, because she held the bags of herbs to her nose as if they were oxygen, focusing on the smell while she convulsed and cried. In the days that followed, those garden samples brightened the nurses days too, and they got to enjoy aromas that reawakened their own cheerful memories.

If you know anyone who feels helpless and forgotten, bring them a bit of the garden in a baggie. The contents of that bag are a gift from the planet earth, a miracle of nature that can be held in the palm of a frail and shaking hand, a memory to cling on to, and a reason to keep living.

Falling Forward

noreply@blogger.com (Steve Asbell) — Sat, 31 Mar 2012 02:16:00 +0000

As many of you know, I started a garden for my mother when she became handicapped as a result of lupus. Over the last month I've taken a hiatus to stay by her side through one medical catastrophe after another, but despite the circumstances I've spent more time gardening now than ever. Well, the plants have to go somewhere, right? Every time I dig up a plant from my mother's old garden and transplant it to my apartment complex, it's a new beginning that gives me hope and strength. After all, to garden is to have faith in the future.

Bromeliads awaiting transport to their new home

A Vriesea now blooms near the apartment office

Cold tolerant bromeliads and palms brighten up the laundry room

I planted the garden for a woman who wanted nothing more than to bring happiness to her world, and every time I see a neighbor marveling at the flower of a bromeliad or an emerging amaryllis bulb, I know that this garden is carrying out my mother's wish. Every plant that leaves my mother's old home is like a piece of my mother that I get to carry with me, and the love of life that she taught me since childhood is being passed along to every neighbor who stops to admire a plant they've never seen before. Their mundane laundry chores are brightened by the plants that would brighten my mother's day from her window. Whenever I visit, I can bring her a freshly plucked flower to enjoy just as I've always done.

The first time she fell this month, we were returning from a day of appointments at the Mayo Clinic. Already weak, she struggled to get out of the car and into the wheelchair when the smooth wheels slipped on the concrete and her top heavy body began to crumple towards the ground head first. Steroids have been keeping her alive, but they've also given her a figure that resembles a beanbag on chicken legs. The steroids and Lupus every nick, bump and scrape to become a potentially life threatening wound, so any attempt to assist her could do more harm than good.

Whatever the risks might have been, I instinctively lunged to break her fall. I couldn't have hoped to support the weight of her steroid enhanced figure, but I wanted to at least lessen the impact. Otherwise the fall would have certainly shattered her osteoporosis weakened skull, or at the very least caused a concussion. However bad it could have been, my assistance was still disastrous. My entire thumb went clear through her taut skin, puncturing through layers of fat and muscle like a hot knife through butter. With one hand wrapped around her and the other one hopelessly locked inside her leg, holding my foot out was all I could do to prevent her head from hitting the ground at full force.

I did everything I could to get her flat on her back, as there was no hope of safely pulling her off the ground without doing further damage. I looked down at my bloody shoe and then to an even bloodier face, and I inspected the deep puncture to her thigh. This was bad. I called 911 as I had done so many times before, and and followed her to the emergency room where I learned that in addition to the wounds on her thigh and arms, the concrete had scraped off part of her cornea. Once she returned home, everything was a struggle and her beloved sheltie became too much work. My aunt picked up the dog, and my mom said goodbye.

The first fall was nothing compared to the second one. I had become concerned after a bizarre phone call from my mother in which her conversation consisted of nothing more than four to five incoherent thoughts, and her voice sounded distant and unconnected to reality. Her confusion alone would have tipped us off, but when she completely forgot that she was talking on the phone and wandered away, my wife and I rushed to get our overnight supplies ready for another trip to the ER. I called 911 on the way to her house, and we arrived to see her incoherently chatting with the paramedics in the driveway from her powerchair. The EMT's were ready to leave, but asked the obligatory questions to make sure she was 'with it.' She couldn't really tell them the current year or her address, but she was convinced that she was fine. The paramedics left us with my confused mother, which frankly, left us confused.

After an exhausting hour of following my mom's powerchair around the house while she demonstrated how nothing in the house seemed to work, we were more than willing to run an errand for her so we could come up with a game plan. It was difficult to explain to her that the reason her phone wasn't working was because it was really a remote control all along, for example. So when I called her from Wal-Mart and didn't get an answer, I reasoned that she was probably just holding a remote control to her ear or something. We returned to the house with a gift of new socks and warm cookies, but when I opened the door they were quickly thrown to the ground as I dashed to my screaming mother across the house. My heart sank as I prepared myself for the most ghastly sight I had ever seen. "Help! Help! I don't know! I don't know! Helllp! What's happening? I don't know! I don't know! Help!" On crumpled legs and a bloody carpet, she screamed like a wounded animal with wild and inhuman eyes darting back and forth around the room, and then to the imaginary animals in the woods who she begged for help. Pinned between an impossibly heavy powerchair and a logjam of furniture for at least thirty minutes (possibly forty), her already excruciating cellulitis infected legs had swelled to a deep crimson and appeared to be on the verge of bursting open. A black blood blister on her left leg rapidly filled to the size of an overinflated water balloon. Imagine being pinned under a car, but then living to experience the full extent of pain for over half an hour without the welcome relief of unconsciousness or death.

My wife called 911 while I cradled my mom's head and tried to distract her, but it was hopeless. She was in so much pain that she couldn't even recognize me, her own son. The same paramedics from a couple of hours earlier worked her onto a stretcher while she continued to scream.

In the emergency room I tried to soothe her by telling her all about the blooms in the garden, and she then wistfully recalled her last hike with me several years back, emotionally describing the cypress trees covered in boughs of Guzmanias and Tillandsias. I stayed the night with her for much of the first week in the hospital and watched her wounds begin to heal. We learned that it was the cellulitus infection that caused her confusion and while the wounds were indeed clearing up enough that she was discharged to a nursing home, the confusion still seemed to worsen.

We had come to recognize her spells of delirium as 'looping.' She would repeat not only the same sentences over and over, but the thoughts as well. If repetitive thoughts have ever kept you awake at night, you'd recognize the concept. Just imagine yourself voicing out these thoughts in real life as if stuck in a loop. It's as if she's had a temporary loss of short term memory and forgets that we've already discussed the same topic merely seconds ago, so we end up having to explain the same thing again and again.

Her confusion would try our patience every now and then, but it was almost always endearing. One day I took her down to the nursing center's garden for some fresh air, and discovered a bright green tree frog on a dead leaf. You wouldn't see that kind of excitement if you gave a twelve year old girl a pony. We've had to explain the same things to her over and over again, but it was such a gift to see the joy in her eyes every time I brought up my wife, also known as her "daughter in love." Tears of happiness would well up each time she thought about "the most wonderful kind and compassionate" woman that I get to call my wife. Hey, I got teary eyed every time the conversation repeated too. Every time we gave her a hug, or showed her one of my drawings she'd sit there with her mouth agape. "How did I get so lucky?" I brought her a plastic bag with sprigs of rosemary and oregano from her garden, and she'd inhale the contents in deep gasps as if she were drowning and savory aroma of herbs was keeping her alive. The nurses, doctors and housekeepers all received showers of genuine compliments each time they entered the room, and heartfelt thanks as they moved on to the next room. My mom seems to think that she's the one caring for her caregivers or something.

During a rare moment of clarity, my mom and I drew together.

Unfortunately, other times the confusion was downright terrifying. During a particularly haunting visit to the nursing home, she looped between a handful of actions. When we attempted to get close to her or touch something in the room, she would shout "Get back! For the love of God, I'm contagious and you're going to die! If you love me, save yourselves and get the hell out NOW!" Then she would randomly shout horrible obscenities. She would also begin to cry periodically, telling us about her horrible nightmare and how she couldn't tell if it was real or not.

I would reassure her "It was all just a nightmare, mom. Everything's fine."

Her face lit up. "It was all a bad dream?"

"Exactly! You're safe now."

"I don't have lupus?"

I exchanged glances of utter heartbreak with my wife. "Uh... well..."

"You mean I can walk?" Her face was still beaming. "I still have a dog? I can still play guitar?"

We stood in stunned and bewildered silence before she moved on to cursing or hysteria again. We delicately tried to get her to drink some cranberry juice before we left, but it took a while to accomplish. We had a really hard time leaving her in that state.

One of the cards sent from a second grade class in Virginia. The teacher is part of the Nancy Asbell prayer group.

A future illustrator?

This uncharacteristic behavior was especially troubling since the confusion should have waned along with the infections. What else was wrong? The next day she went back to the ER with severe dehydration and a dangerous drop in blood pressure. If my wife and I could barely get her to drink, it must have been impossible for the staff of the nursing facility. The infections throughout her body had spread to her blood, leading to what they call sepsis. I watched her sleep in the tiny cramped ER room, and drew her eerily lit face with my colored pencils in the ten minutes before they moved her to the ICU. The pink lupus rash that normally went from the bridge of her nose to the sides of her face had turned purple and mottled. "I love you so much" was softly repeated between her snores and spasms, and each time I heard the words they seemed as sure and constant as the tides. Her blood pressure eventually rose, and I finished my drawing. While she slept in the ICU I drew the Senetti (the uncompleted drawing is at the top of the page) that I was trialing for Costa Farms in her backyard. That way she could have a bit of the garden to enjoy after yet another brush with death. While she winced and shuddered in pain, we both agreed that it was a wonderful day indeed.

This month has been heartbreaking to be sure, but even through the worst of it I've witnessed the kind of love that makes me wish there was a flag for humanity so that I could wave it from the rooftops. My mother's chronic illness has bedeviled her throughout my childhood and into my adult life, but that illness has made her into a more resilient and positive person. Getting to keep my mom after each brush with death has also made me much more thankful. You can take a disaster let it destroy your day, or you could choose to cherish every beautiful detail of that disaster; every kind thought, every trick of light and ever moment shared. To put it in gardening terms: Don't let a shady situation ruin your garden, learn to embrace shade loving plants. You can't control the situation, so learn to love it.

Snotfruit and Other Delights

noreply@blogger.com (Steve Asbell) — Mon, 27 Feb 2012 22:46:00 +0000

The counter at the Miami Fruit and Spice Park was stacked with a menagerie of bizarre fruit from the imagination of Dr. Seuss himself, and it was all ours for the sampling. "Would you like to try some black sapote?" The attendant asked. My wife and I were presented with Popsicle sticks smeared with what appeared to have come off of her shoe after an unfortunate dog walking incident. We ate the stool samples (sorry, I couldn't resist) and felt the pasty deep brown cream on our tongues before we tasted an earthy chocolate flavor so savory that it couldn't have possibly come from a fruit.

Though the fruits are dry, seedy and inedible, pink velvet banana is great in the garden.

Raised water gardens with red mangroves are the perfect complement to these raised beds.

I don't know what this tree is, but I love the rosy translucent new leaves.

Ananas bracteatus? This is the ornamental red pineapple in bloom.

The Miami Fruit and Spice Park lies in the Redlands just to the southwest of Miami, and is surrounded by countless nurseries and farms that take advantage of the rich swamp muck soil and tropical climate. On the short drive from the Costa Farms trial gardens, we drove through groves of blooming mangoes divided by hedges of the 'areca' palm commonly grown as a houseplant. This was paradise.

We were at the doorstep of the park's Mango Cafe just minutes before opening, and the minute they let us in we already knew what we were ordering. A tropical fruit sampler and a passionfruit smoothie. I was starting to feel like my allergies were really a cold after all, and I was ready to have a seat after the short walk from our car. The platter was a cornucopia of color and flavors, from the tart yellow pear tomatoes that I had recently illustrated, to the canistel, a fruit with the flavor and texture of a baked sweet potato pie.

Unripe fruit forming on the trunks of the jaboticaba

Ripe jaboticaba fruit, ready to be devoured.

My favorite fruit on the platter was the jaboticaba, something I had been craving since I first read about their odd arrangement of sweet and musky fruits along the trunks of their trees. Jaboticabas are especially unique in that they require a good twenty to thirty years of growth before they first producing fruit on their twisted trunks. There's a folk tale from Brazil that goes a little something like this: A young man came across a elderly man who was clearly not long for this world, and the ancient Brazilian Johnny Appleseed was planting jaboticaba seeds. "Are you crazy?" The young man exclaimed. "Don't you realize that you won't be around to eat the fruit?" The old man paused and calmly explained, "If everyone thought like you, there would be no jaboticaba fruit."

So I spit out my jaboticaba seeds after my lunch and wrapped them in a napkin so that my children can one day enjoy jaboticaba for themselves. It's a retirement plan. With seeds tucked into my khakis, we entered the park through the gift shop. The gifts themselves didn't thrill me too much, but the sampling counter was like a dessert to our tasty lunch.

Snotty flesh or not, even the scales make the fruit look like it has post nasal drip.

The trees are dripping with snot.

My own rendition of the snotfruit, in colored pencil over a wash of marker.

Apart from the black sapote (which I should add is only ready to eat when it looks as if it's rotting) the highlight of our tasting was the unfortunately named snotfruit. It's actually called Rollinia, an only slightly more marketable name than 'snotfruit.' Anyways, it bruises too easily to allow for shipping to your grocery store. Yes, the texture is snotty to say the least, but the flavor is nonetheless comparable to the esteemed soursops and custard apples, with a light and refreshing flavor like lemon meringue. Unlike the jaboticaba, the patient attendant told me that it takes a mere two years to produce a fruit bearing tree from seed. I happily accepted her offer of seeds to plant for myself, but it was hard for her to understand me because I was stammering in my excitement.

Or maybe I was just coming down with something. In an excruciating twist of fate, halfway through our walk around the park I've dreamed of visiting for about five years, I could barely walk and was getting chills. As I later found out, I was coming down with pneumonia and still have it over a week later. Just don't blame the snotfruit.

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I'm Giving Away Two Custom Drawings!

noreply@blogger.com (Steve Asbell) — Sat, 25 Feb 2012 02:32:00 +0000

In celebration of my new Gardenillustration.com portfolio page, I'm giving away two drawings of the plant of your choice! All you have to do is share this post via Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest etc. and leave a comment telling me what plant you would like for me to draw. Roses? You bet! Bromeliads? You betcha! You can enter as many times as you want before the deadline on March 10th, 7pm EST.

First Prize

One 8X10 illustration of the plant of your choice, along with the nonexclusive rights to use the image anywhere you want.

Second Prize

One custom original 5X7 Illustration, also complete with nonexclusive rights. Most of my illustrations are completed at around this size.

Third Prize
A stylishly wrapped sampler pack (retail 19.95) of Annie Haven's famous Authentic Haven Moo Poo tea, complete with a bag of alfalfa tea, cow tea and horse tea. This stuff is working wonders on my orchids and bromeliads with a tank mister, and best of all, they're totally organic! They're also a perfect natural alternative for container gardens.

All of my illustrations are drawn with Prismacolor colored pencil on Strathmore smooth bristol board. Here are some examples of my work. The orchid drawing was roughly 8X10 and drawn for my header, while the other ones were drawn for a client that is currently confidential. These were done in a hurry to meet deadlines, but your prize drawings will be drawn slowly and methodically, of ANY plant you want drawn. Fruit, veggies, flowers, leaves, you name it. Remember, your wish is my command!

So, what do you want me to draw for you?
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A Kid in a Flower Factory at Costa Farms

noreply@blogger.com (Steve Asbell) — Wed, 22 Feb 2012 22:33:00 +0000

Remember the childhood exhilaration of opening a fresh box of crayons and seeing forty eight hues of possibility laid out before you? That's how my wife chose to describe the feeling she got when we wandered into Costa Farms' remarkable trial gardens, and I couldn't agree more. The Costa Farms trial gardens have recently expanded to two gorgeous acres filled with long rows of plants in testing mode along with idea gardens that show off some of the most creative ways to color outside the lines and show off your colors.

Our 'hostesses with the mostest' were Angelica Cretu and Melissa Arteaga-Marti, who patiently tried to reign in our attention spans with fascinating facts while our eyes darted between walls of woolly pockets and forests of hanging baskets. From the minute we stepped beneath the petunia draped pergola, a tapestry of color unfolded before our eyes. Angelica's soft and relaxing voice faded to static as I caught glimpses of curving beds and rows of flowers between the posts of the archway. It was fascinating to learn that they were trialing 384 petunias, but I just couldn't seem to take my eyes off the petunias themselves.

The landscape beds were a curving riot of color beneath the palms and Norfolk Island pines. These trees presumably act as windbreaks and break up the landscape's design without casting too much shade on the sun loving annuals. To get the best vantage point, Angelica guided us up into a white observation deck that offered us a sweeping vista of hues. Directly below us we could see the Burle-Marxe-esque paintings of undulating and dancing beds, and straight out we could see thousands of annuals in one breathtaking view. I wanted to have a picnic up there; any excuse to bask in the artistry for a little more time. Actually, we were getting hungry anyways.

Petunias and other annuals prepare to cascade down from the pergola.

I love how they incorporated the glowing orange bulbine into this vertical garden.

Hanging baskets on trial to show which plants cope respond best to being airborne.

There were tons of ideas to get our creative juices going, from designer arranged container combos to a hanging garden of petunia planted baskets. I was especially smitten with the vertical garden, which was made up of Woolly Pockets filled with annuals and tough perennials like bulbine and purple heart. As many of you know, I am all about vertical gardening, especially when they're done well.

I absolutely love these pavers interplanted with succulents, and from what I can tell, so does everyone else. I've tried this on a much smaller scale with bromeliads, but now I want to try it again!

Even though Costa Farms has managed to knock my socks off with their bedding plant displays, I'm a tropical foliage lover at heart. I was thrilled to discover a grove of feathery palms with orchids pinned to the trunks, growing epiphytically. The grove was underplanted with masses of gorgeous red Aglaonemas, but what really got me excited were the hibiscus varieties. These were the kinds that you normally don't see outside specialty dealers; one had huge red flowers with a spiraling crinkled texture, and another one had lavender double flowered blooms! The best part is that they'll be available at a big box retailer near you in just a couple of months.

Another tropical plant that really caught my eye is Pick Me Pink, a new cross between a poinsettia and another euphorbia. The compact habit would make it useful for tight spaces, but mostly I love the tightly spiraling bracts that fade from red to light pink. I really hope that this one catches on this holiday season.

The mild winters of south Florida are ideal for growing many of the same annuals and perennials grown in spring up north. Here in Florida we call these flowers 'winter annuals,' and these are what they plant in their Season Premier trial garden. They transplant the flowers into their new homes in early November, and follow up on their progress in January, March and May. As we walked the rows of plants on trial, it was clear that several were 'dead men walking' and wilting in the heat of the day. On the other hand, many of the plants were so healthy that their leaves were obscured by a profusion of blooms. By the end of May, the Season Premier trial garden is dismantled to make way for the Summer Garden. In case you didn't know it, Florida summers are rough on all but the toughest bedding plants. The sun here in lower latitudes hits the garden at a brutally direct angle in summer, and the humidity and heavy rains also take their toll.

These trials aren't just limited to their grounds in Florida and North Carolina. Costa routinely sends plants to garden writers to test out in their own unique gardens. For example some other writers and myself are currently testing out their Senetti, a line of Pericallis hybrids created in Japan by Suntory. The photo barely does these plants justice, but they're verging on flourescent, in hues of magenta and deep violet, in solid colors or with bursts of white in the centers. I'll be sure to let you know how they do, but so far, so good!

Rainforest Drop All Stars and a New Look

noreply@blogger.com (Steve Asbell) — Fri, 10 Feb 2012 15:23:00 +0000

The blog looks different, doesn't it? I'll cover that at the end of the post, but first I have some fun photos to share. Remember those neat rainforest drops that I made over a year ago? Here's an update on not only my own creations, but those of my good friends as well. Doreen Howard is the garden blogger for Old Farmer's Almanac who was kind enough to send me a progress report on a drop I sent her last year. Chris George is a fellow bromeliad addict with his own decidedly more exciting take on my recipe, complete with a blooming Vriesea bromeliad!

This is a Drop that I sent to Doreen Howard a while back. Doreen's Drop is brightening up the room with an assortment of Rhipsalis and Tillandsia. In spring she can expect to see a flush of new growth from the Rhipsalis, but until then it seems to be doing just fine dealing with the challenges of an indoor growing environment.

Chris George made his own drop with a modge podge of epiphytic cactus cuttings and tillandsia, and topped it off with a gorgeous Vriesea bromeliad. The toothed hanging cacti are Zygocactus, otherwise known as Christmas cactus. Can you imagine how they'd look in full bloom? He also incorporated a plant that I've been wanting to try out myself, resurrection fern. They act as a built in watering gauge, shriveling up during drought and returning with green lushness once thoroughly watered. They aren't offered in stores, but they grow wild on live oaks in the Coastal South. Don't harvest them from the wild though, just carefully remove one from a tree on your own (or a willing friend's) property after a rain.

My own favorite drop has filled in nicely after a year of once a week (roughly) waterings. It needed more water for the cuttings to establish, but now it thrives on neglect. I even found a bloom on one of the Rhipsalis over winter!

The 'Drunkards Dream' Hatiora isn't blooming yet, but one of my other 'Drunkard's Dreams' is. If those bright yellow orange blooms are any indication, we're in for a treat. I've even planted a Dendrobium Pierardii from my friend Grower Jim. Eventually the springtime blooms will drape over the edge of the drop in a cascade.

On a side note, you might notice some big changes in The Rainforest Garden's design. When I started the Rainforest Garden, the focus was strictly on "tropical gardening where it's not so tropical." Just as in gardens and many of the other good things in life, change is both inevitable and even welcome. Over the last few months, my work in illustration, photography and writing has come to dominate my life and creep into The Rainforest Garden, and you may have noticed less posts about tropicalesque gardening and more posts on creative projects like terrariums, drawing, containers and of course, rainforest drops. Will the blog posts change with the new design? Not much.

Finding Winter Color for Florida

noreply@blogger.com (Steve Asbell) — Sun, 22 Jan 2012 18:32:00 +0000

You wouldn't know it by the drab dead grass and weeds lining most of our streets, but winter in Florida has unexpected magical surprises in store. Camellia blooms, oranges and bright displays of cool season annuals can turn any depressing scene into a winter wonderland! I was blown away by the creative use of winter color and evergreen foliage at my favorite garden center, so I decided to take some shots with my cell phone camera and take you along for the ride.

Petunias on a rainy winter morning

Violas

Ornamental Kale

Annuals

I used to think that winter bedding plants were tacky, but eventually I realized just how useful they can be if used carefully. They've really grown on me. You could swear it's springtime at Hagan Ace in Orange Park. While the sky was steely gray and drizzling, the cheery bright displays of violas and dianthus were unrelenting. Most annual displays around town seem to be a mishmash of contrasting bright colors in random arrangements, but I like to combine similar colors or just keep it monochromatic: Purple petunias and johnny jump ups look much more soothing with lavender alyssum, ornamental cabbage and dusty miller.

Primrose

Ajuga, or bugleweed

Heuchera, or coral bells

Mondo Grass

Perennials, Groundcovers and Bulbs

The term 'winter color' usually brings to mind temporary displays of bedding plants, but there are long lasting alternatives that can be left in place all year long. Hurricane lily and other lycoris species might bloom in fall, but they keep their deep green leaves all through winter, looking similar to mondo grass but with a white stripe down each leaf. Mondo grass and border grass also stay green in winter, though they tend to flop over until spring.

I was really excited when I found Hagan Ace's display of deep purple hued Ajugas and silvery Heucheras, plants that I never appreciated enough as winter color before. Their unique colors and textures would look terrific with ornamental cabbages, neoregelia bromeliads or just about anything else that could contribute to the quilt of colors and textures.

Primroses and Alstromeria were two perennials that I have never grown before, but rest assured that they came home with me that day. Alstromeria are typically grown in California where they don't have to deal with the humidity, but I am nothing if not adventurous. Besides, the grower is located here in Florida. The Primula was also new for me, but I was sold when the nursery manager told me they tolerate shade. Even though they aren't supposed to make it through our hot summers, it will bring my balcony happiness until spring.

Nandina 'Firepower'

Camellia

Madonna Azalea

Trees and Shrubs

There are more to winter blooming shrubs than camellias, though they're certaintly the best place to start. My live oak canopied neighborhood is home to some of the tallest and most impressive camellias I've ever seen, and they're definitely the highlight of my winter walks. A close second goes to Mandarin orange trees, with plump orange fruits dangling down and begging to be plucked. I have shown restraint, at least so far.

The unusually warm winter has brought us redbud blooms in January, but far more common are the fragrant flowers of Ligustrums. Along with alyssums, they can make an entire garden smell like honey! Some azaleas also bloom in three seasons including winter, so they're definitely worth a look. 'Madonna' and a few others were blooming at the garden center during my visit.

Swiss Chard

Vegetables and Herbs

A surprising amount of veggies and herbs thrive in our cool winters. Salad greens, lettuce and collards can sit alongside carrots, potatoes, peas and onions. With all of those exciting crops, wonder if Florida vegetable gardeners even have to worry about seasonal affective disorder. How can anyone look at the vivid red and green leaves of swiss chard and feel anything else than pure joy?

Herbs love this weather as well, and Hagan Ace's herb selection was a feast for the senses. Strawberries hung from the arbor over fragrant rosemaries, mints and blooming calendulas. I was forced to buy a 'Lilliput' thyme and a "Lemon Lime' thyme, but I just couldn't help myself. I'll just look at it as grocery shopping!

Feel free to add your own favorites for winter color in the comments below! Oh, and if you're a naturally curious gardener like myself, be sure to join Christopher Tidrick for Linnaeus Day on the 23rd of each month as he explores the mysteries and history of the world one plant at a time. I can't wait to see what he has in store!
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The World is Your Garden

noreply@blogger.com (Steve Asbell) — Wed, 21 Dec 2011 19:03:00 +0000

A garden follows you wherever you go. It branches out to the soil of friends and neighbors in the form of cuttings and divisions, and when you leave your own patch of soil it also follows, uprooted and shaken up, but ready to start life anew under any circumstances. In 2008 I planted 'the rainforest garden' for my mother, who had lost her ability to walk after complications of a brain stem stroke, a broken back and other ailments. The garden started as a humble patch of soggy dirt against the fence, but quickly grew into something wonderful.

Parrot Notecard, mixed media. My mom does several of these notecards every day.

Our sheltie Panda loves to sit on the patio and feel the breeze

Every week my wife and I visit my mom, and each time I bring in something from the garden for my mom to enjoy. Yes, I'm a grown man, and yes, my wife gets flowers too, but no one really appreciates those minute details like my mother. When I divide gingers or bordergrass, she wants to sniff the pungent and earthy aroma of the bruised roots and feel the texture of the crumbling dirt around the roots. She makes arrangements out of the most mundane sticks and leaves, and delights in the texture of a morning glory or the shrill song of a tree frog. She is without a doubt the happiest person I'll ever meet. She is about to lose her home and her garden, and she is overjoyed nonetheless, excitedly telling me about her distorting wounds and inflated legs as if they're miracles. They really are. She should not be alive, and she knows it.

She lives alone with her sheltie and spends each day hard at work creating art, teaching lessons and blogging about all the things she's thankful for. Since she has no car, she drives her motorized wheelchair to a Publix a few miles away for whatever groceries she can fit in her lap, waving at befuddled kids along the way with a radiant smile. When I visited today with the rest of her groceries, she told me about the severe cellulitus infections in her legs dismissively before changing the subject to the progress of her piano students, how much she loves my wife or the simple joys of drinking tea in the garden with her dog. I'm telling you, nothing gets her down. Doubt and fear pay the occasional visit, but it doesn't last for long.

I have been planting nothing but bulbs, rhizomes, corms and tubers for a while now. I have not broken ground on new beds or planted any trees, and you've probably noticed that the focus of my blog has dramatically shifted away from 'the rainforest garden' at my mother's house. I've known that foreclosure was coming since my parents separated in May, just about a week before my wife and I were married.

She's not the only one facing foreclosures, nor is she the the only one going through a nasty divorce or life threatening illnesses. Life is unfair. Just don't tell my mom that life isn't just, because she'll never believe it til the day she dies. We can do nothing and feel sorry for ourselves, or we can make the choice to create, work and smile every day and do something great with our lives.

Steve's Guana, Acrylic

Mandarin Boat Ramp, Acrylic.

My mother earns enough from home to support herself, even though she literally finds it hard to get out of bed because her legs are so swollen from cellulitus infections that they can barely bend. Her back is broken from the steroids that keep her alive, and the medicine treating those infections worsens the infections in her stomach. Her whole body is in an impossibly delicate balance between life and death, and a careless scratch on her leg can become an angrily red grotesque monster in a matter of minutes. I've seen this happen myself, a lot.

I took this photo of my my mom at the Mayo Clinic parking lot a couple weeks ago. The subject was originally the fall crepe myrtle leaves, but I looked down and saw my mom gazing at the same leaves in wonder and took a picture of her instead, since it sums her up so nicely. Even her own illness is beautiful to her. She regards the horribly twisted and mutated growths on her own body with the same fascination that she sees in a knobbly ginger root. With an attitude like that, how could anyone possibly be sad? When every day is your garden; every parking lot median, every butterfly and every weed in the concrete magical, you will always find joy.

I dug up the turmeric roots in the last post so that they could be planted at my mother in law's house so that my wife's own mother will soon have a rainforest garden of her own. I can't dig up the tabebuia and orchid trees and the other common trees and shrubs might be more trouble than they're worth. All of the gingers, alocasias, cannas and other roots can be cut back and lifted, the bromeliads can be brought along for the ride, and I'll just have to try and rescue my treasured palms in the front yard. I'll leave plenty for the next owners, don't worry!

These passionflowers are blooming on a heavily fruiting holly tree in the back yard

The sleepy hibiscus plant is exploding into bloom, just in time for Christmas

My mother won't be without a garden, because every day will be a garden for her to embrace and nurture. Who knows! Maybe she'll own a home again someday and I'll have bulbs and divisions in standby mode, but until then every view and fragrance wherever will be hers for the taking, wherever she may be. Happiness is a choice, and Nancy Asbell's mind is made up.

How to Grow Turmeric

noreply@blogger.com (Steve Asbell) — Sat, 17 Dec 2011 04:57:00 +0000

I'm not sure why turmeric isn't more popular, considering that growing your own, Thai food and DIY projects are all the rage. Curcuma longa is a tropical rhizome with an intriguing past that looks just as great in the garden as it tastes on the table. The whole plant is edible; the roots are boiled, dried and ground up to produce turmeric powder, the leaves make a wrap for steamed fish, and even the flowers can be eaten as an exotically beautiful vegetable, like lettuce with a kick. Oh, and did I mention that impersonating turmeric is a crime in India?

Why You Should Grow Turmeric

First of all, its large ribbed leaves create a lush and tropical look in any garden, and it's easily dug up and overwintered in northern climates. It has been the toughest and most reliable plant in my garden, with one rhizome increasing to hundreds more over the course of a few years with no effort on my part. The large green and white inflorescences nestled between the leaves are beautiful both as cut flowers or enjoyed in the garden. Besides it's appeal as a garden plant, Curcuma longa is also incredibly useful in the home and kitchen.

This might be one of the world's healthiest foods; so healthy in fact that I wouldn't hesitate to call it a miracle drug. Not only does it contain a healthy serving of iron and manganese, It's proven itself as a cancer treatment, both preventing and destroying cancerous cells. Curcumin, turmeric's active ingredient, actually lowers cholesterol by working in tandem with the liver to remove harmful cholesterol from the body.

Turmeric's antiseptic and antibacterial properties make it useful for cleaning and treating wounds, and its anti-inflammatory properties allow it to treat arthritis, psoriasis, headaches and even blood clots! Think of it as Motrin, but with none of the harmful side effects. None of these health benefits are new to South Asians, who've been cultivating the plant and using it for over five thousand years for both treating ailments and treating themselves to some delicious curries.

Despite it's status as one of the world's healthiest foods, turmeric is probably most widely used as a dye. You see turmeric every day as a food dye in mustard, margarine, chicken soup or just about anywhere else a golden color is called for, but it can also be used to dye Easter eggs, saris or even skin. If you've ever accidentally stained a tablecloth or dish towel with turmeric powder, you've already been acquainted with it's efficacy. I've even used some small rhizomes as a sort of sidewalk crayon or chalk!

The fact that turmeric is both yellow and a spice has given it the unfortunate nickname of "Indian Saffron" for it's use as a substitute or knockoff of the much costlier spice, saffron. This isn't to say that saffron is better than turmeric; it's just different! Turmeric has it's own unique flavor; warm, peppery and earthy, tasting nothing like saffron. Saffron is harvested from the stigmas of Crocus sativus and has been used for for thousand years (almost as long as turmeric) in Europe and central Asia, but is now mostly used for Spanish dishes like yellow rice.

Even so, the yellow rice mixes sold at the grocery store are made with lots of turmeric and barely any saffron at all. Even Mahatma 'Saffron Yellow Rice' lists turmeric as one of the top ingredients in the saffron flavoring, with real saffron followed only by the silicone dioxide used to prevent caking. It's amazing that passing off turmeric as saffron is don with such ease nowadays, especially considering that in the medieval days of Germany offenders were executed; burnt alive or buried along with their illegitimate spices under the safranschou code. An article in the Times of India looks like the coverage of a drug bust until you realize that the contraband is in fact rice husks and bad turmeric, not meth and coke.

Curcuma longa's leaves, close up

How To Grow Turmeric

Growing this miracle drug couldn't be easier, and anyone can grow their own provided it receives enough moisture. Curcuma longa is naturally deciduous from fall until late spring, which makes digging and overwintering abundantly easy. You can buy it on Ebay by searching for Curcuma longa, but I bought mine as 'hidden ginger.' There are different kinds of hidden ginger, but only the rhizomes of Curcuma longa, Curcuma zedoaria and Curcuma aromatica should be grown as spices.

Turmeric in the garden

Moisture, Sun and Soil

Turmeric will handle anything you throw at it, returning from drought and sailing through floods. Mine grows in the dry shade under the house's eaves as well as constantly soggy soil. Garden literature will tell you that it requires moist and well drained soil, but it thrives in the clay and muck of my back yard like a weed. Turmeric can grow in full sun, but only if the soil remains constantly wet. Otherwise, provide mid-day shade. If the plant is stressed by drought or too much sun, the leaves will hang limp and develop burnt tips.

Climate

Gardeners in zones 7b through 11 can grow turmeric in the ground over winter through its dormancy period. Everyone else can just dig up the rhizomes in fall and store them in a cool place over winter. I've seen a few sources which erroneously state that turmeric can only be grown in the tropics, but anyone can grow it as long as the roots don't freeze.

Planting and Overwintering

Plant turmeric in spring once all danger of frost has passed, or in northern climates, start it in a container. The pleated leaves will eventually become plumes four feet tall in ideal conditions, and green and white cones of yellow flowers will emerge between the leaves in summer. After a stem has finished flowering, cut it to the ground to encourage new growth. By late fall the leaves will begin to decline and turn yellow. Cut them back if desired or let them die back naturally.

North of zone 7b, dig up the rhizomes in fall, rinse off excess soil with a hose and nozzle, snap off mushy and rotting pieces and let the rhizomes air dry before storing them dry peat or sawdust until spring. Check on them periodically for rot or pests.

Turmeric is to the left and middle, along with some other rhizomes.

Processing

I haven't found a universally accepted method for making turmeric powder, but the general consensus seems to be as follows:

1. Clean the rhizomes thoroughly
2. Boil rhizomes for 45 min.
3. Peel off the skins
4. Dry in shade for at least a week
5. Break up rhizomes with a hammer
6. Grind rhizomes using a mortar and pestle, or a food processor

Again, I haven't done this myself yet but I plan on trying it myself soon. If you happen to have a recipe, please share!

.

The Five Dollar Butter Dish Terrarium

noreply@blogger.com (Steve Asbell) — Fri, 09 Dec 2011 15:18:00 +0000

The butter dish was five dollars, and the moss was collected for free from an abandoned parking lot. The Hatiora cuttings were taken from my balcony, and the white piece of coral was just found on the beach, also a freebie. The whole project cost me five dollars and only took about a minute to make, but the end result is in my opinion, a miniature work of art. Here's how I did it.

I was strolling through the grocery store the other day and came across something I hadn't seen for a long time: A butter dish. You know I'm a really hardcore gardener, because the first thing I envisioned inside wasn't butter at all, but plants! Doesn't it just make the perfect terrarium?

How to Make Your Own

First I pulled up some moss clumps from an empty parking lot. I then broke them up into smaller pieces and fit them snugly into the butter dish in a pleasing arrangement. I've found that it looks more natural if the pieces of moss are laid at an angle.

Next I tucked in some of my trusty epiphytic cactus cuttings and a sunbleached piece of coral to resemble a little coral reef. If you're using coral or seashells, make sure they're thoroughly washed clean of any salt residue from the sea.

When you place the lid over the moss garden, the edges of the moss might get flattened. Don't sweat it. Since moss prefers to breathe most of the time, leave the lid off of the dish every now and them. Keep the dish just watered enough that the moss stays moist without water collecting at the bottom.

That's it! Have fun, let me know if you have any questions and be sure to tell me about your own interesting terrarium projects!

With lid

Without lid

Better Garden Photography with Cell Phones

noreply@blogger.com (Steve Asbell) — Sat, 03 Dec 2011 14:24:00 +0000

Okay, so I lied. I’m adding another part to this photography series, specifically for those shooting with a ‘point and shoot’ camera or a cell phone. Great photography is not about having the latest and greatest high resolution digital SLR camera out there; it’s about being creative and involved in your world, using the camera as your voice. Besides, the technology has improved dramatically in a very short period of time, making it hard for most people to distinguish between photos taken with a $100 camera vs. a $1000 dollar one.

It's easy to be creative and spontaneous with a cell phone. This is a fire hydrant.

I’ve made it a goal to take photos of everyday beautiful life on a daily basis, on my way to work, on morning walks or when I’m out doing errands. They don’t have to be pretty garden shots. I just try to showcase the minute details of the generic urban landscape that stand out to me as beautiful. I see wonderful things every day, but it’s all a matter of perspective. Luckily my cell phone camera gives me the perspective I need. Here are some ways that you can make the most of your humble cell phone for great pictures.

Cell Phones help you to be spontaneous. This is moss growing in a parking lot.

Get a Good Perspective

Cell phones and affordable ‘point and shoot’ cameras have made it possible for us to as many photos as we’d like without waiting for the film to get developed. You can take the photo, review it on the screen and trash the bad shots until you get a good one. They’re perfect for obtaining unusual perspectives since they’re small enough to reach into the foliage or at ground level.Try shooting from the hip, so to speak.

Learn to Use the Settings

Even the most basic camera has some settings to tinker around with. Try shooting the same subject with every setting available and see how they differ from each other. A party mode would be ideal for indoor low light settings, while the landscape mode would be good for most outdoor shots. When in doubt, just use the automatic setting.

Sometimes the only way to light up a shot is by using a flash

When to Use Flash

Most garden and outdoor photos look harsh and flat when a flash is used, but sometimes it works in your favor. Sometimes there just isn’t enough light to capture a decent shot, and other times the flash can create a neat effect. Usually, however, the flash just seems to drain the life out of any botanical subjects. If I’m trying to take a photo indoors, I’ll usually bring in a bunch of cheap desk lamps to get the lighting I want. Hey, it works.

Finding Focus

One of the quirks to pocket sized cameras is the inability to focus on your subject. You could be trying to get a shot of your favorite flower, only to find that the background is the only thing that comes out in sharp focus after each shot. Even though the composition won’t be gallery worthy, put the subject in the middle of the screen or pull the camera back a bit and you’ll have better luck getting the shot. You can always crop later!

After the Shot

After taking a good photo, explore some other creative options. If you have a smartphone, try downloading image editing software directly to the camera! Otherwise, you'll have better tools at your disposal if you import photos to your computer and edit them to your heart's content using Photoshop, Gimp, and other image editing software. This can be a big help when the shadows aren't dark enough, or the image has too much contrast. In Photoshop your most powerful tool is Curves since it allows you to tweak the shadows, midtones and highlights while maintaining a natural looking image. When in doubt, just play around and have fun with it. That's how I learned!

Teabag Seed Packets and a Teapot Terrarium

noreply@blogger.com (Steve Asbell) — Tue, 29 Nov 2011 01:59:00 +0000

I say it's high time that we gardeners had a tea party, Rainforest Garden style. Serving your friends some tea and cookies is always great, but why not let them gaze at a teapot terrarium as a centerpiece, or send them home with DIY seed packets disguised as tea bags? If entertaining friends isn't your thing, skip shopping this year and give your friends and family homemade seedbags for the holidays! They're cheap, easy and very, very fun. Here's how to make your own:

These seed packets are more than just that; they're seed bombs too! A large seedbag (I like that name) contains just enough soil to get a few seeds started, and the coffee filter envelope is permeable enough to let water inside, and bio-degradable enough to let growing plants out. Plant the seedbag just as you would plant a small container, but leave the whole bag intact.

All you need is a coffee filter, seeds, soil and string, and the labels can be hand drawn on any piece of scrap paper and stapled to the end of the string. Any coffee filter will do, but I used the flat kind that's already folded at the bottom. It you're using one of the bowl shaped coffee filters, just fold it in half before step one. The label can be stapled on the end of the string.

If the instructions are a bit vague, that's because it's in beta testing (so to speak) and everyone will find their own ideal dimensions and technique. You will go through a couple before getting it right, but you'll get the hang of it! If you're still having troubles, leave a comment if you have any questions. I'll do another post after I've heard more feedback and arrived at the perfect dimensions, and maybe even design a cut-out template to use as a stencil!

Teapot Terrarium

This glass pitcher makes an ideal terrarium and it even comes with a lid to keep in moisture. I bought it at Books-A-Million with a terrarium in mind, but then the gears in my head started creaking to life and a typical terrarium just wouldn't cut it anymore. How could I make this terrarium even more like a tea pot? With a tea bag, of course!

For the 'tea bag' I just wrapped some Hatiora (drunkards dream) in sphagnum moss with twine. I placed a layer of glass pebbles inside so that I could water the 'tea bag' without it sitting in water, and I let the twine and label hang over the edge of the teapot. That's it! Think of it as a miniature 'Rainforest Drop.'

Learning to Take Better Garden Photos, Part 1

noreply@blogger.com (Steve Asbell) — Thu, 24 Nov 2011 15:18:00 +0000

You'll notice that the title isn't 'How to Take Better Garden Photos.' It's about 'Learning to Take Better Garden Photos' because like most of you, I'm still learning! My recent trip to the Jacksonville Zoo and Gardens was not all about the animals, or even the plants: I spent my time learning ways to take better photos with crisper details, better exposure and more creative composition. In part one of three, I focus on how to make the most of your equipment for great garden shots. Next I'll cover techniques before moving on to composition.

Digital SLR cameras let you adjust the focus and aperture to take better 'close ups' of flowers

'Point and Shoot' or Digital SLR?

A resourceful photographer can take excellent photos with any camera, regardless of price. Many of the photos on this blog were taken with my cell phone or 'point and shoot' and look just as good as many photos on my fancy camera. My wife's pocket sized 'point and shoot' takes great photos even if the photographer has no idea what shutter speed and aperture mean, so why bother with a DSLR? In a word, versatility. When your cell phone takes an awful looking washed out and blurry photo, you're pretty much out of luck. If you shoot that same lousy image with a DSLR, you're able to try again after manually focusing on your subject and adjusting your exposure.

This camellia was in deep shade, so a tripod was needed to prevent a blurry photo

How to Shake Off the 'Camera Shake' for Good

Have you ever taken a whole day's worth of photos at the botanical garden, only to find that most of them were blurry and unusable? When you're shooting photos in dim conditions, your camera's shutter has to stay open longer to capture the light and record an image. This means that during that long 'click' you hear your camera make, it's recording a blurry image that's been smeared around by your trembling hands. A tripod keeps the camera in one place so that it's recording an image from the exact same spot.

If you don't have a tripod, many cameras have a 'sport' mode that's usually indicated by an icon of a running stick figure. The sport mode uses a faster shutter speed and results in less camera shake, but since less information is captured during that short fraction of a second, the image can end up dark or grainy. Since we're taking photos of a fairly slow moving garden, it's best to skip the 'sports mode' and fast shutter speed, and just use a tripod.

I took this photo of plumbago several times to see a well exposed image on the screen

Preview for (Almost) Perfect Photos

If at first you don't succeed, digital cameras let you try and try again. Nowadays, most digital cameras allow you to see a preview of the image on a small screen after it's been taken. You would think that this would mean the end of bad photos, since we're now able to make sure that we took a good shot before moving on to the next flower, but unfortunately I'm just now taking advantage of this feature.

Here's how to use the preview to take perfect shots every time: Take the photo, preview it on the screen, and zoom in to make sure that it's in focus. If you're not happy with your shot, adjust the focus, exposure settings or mode until the little picture in the preview screen is just right. Another option is to shoot in RAW format, if your camera allows it. RAW format images can have their exposure adjusted on your computer after the photo has been taken.

A crisp image like this was made possible by reading the manual and adjusting the diopter dial.

Get to Know Your Camera

On my trip to the zoo I discovered something amazing about my camera for the first time. When I was researching newer models, a feature that stood out to me was this miraculous dial that compensates for bad eyesight! The next day, I saw that very same feature on my own camera, turned the dial until the view was sharp, and Voila. I can now see things clearly in the viewfinder for the first time. Years of slightly blurry landscape shots and strained squinting into the viewfinder are finally over for me.

Your camera probably has features you've never known about either, and the best place to find them is by looking in the manual that came in the box. Sit down for a spell and try out each feature on the camera before taking it outside for a test run.

To isolate the topiaries, I shot from a distance with a telephoto lens.

Other Equipment

These are just some of the tools available to garden photographers, but they are the necessities. Don't leave home without them!

One of the perks of the digital age is the ability to take an infinite amount of photos on memory cards before uploading them to your computer. Invest in at least a few memory cards, just in case you lose one or your card runs out of space while you're on the road.

Lenses are one of the best reasons to upgrade to a digital SLR. Wide angle lenses are perfect for getting the full view of intimate garden settings, while telephoto zoom lenses let you focus on a specific plant in the distance. A standard lens with a medium focal length is helpful for isolating a plant against an uncluttered background. For the best close up shots, choose a macro lens and think of it as a magnifying glass for your camera.

Get a spare charger just in case. It's pretty disappointing to arrive at your destination only to find that your camera is out of juice.

If you're shooting outdoors in the garden, rain is bound to sneak up on you sooner or later. Get a waterproof bag or a camera cover so you can stick around for the rainbow. In a pinch, bring along a trash bag and some ziplocks.

With a wide angle lens, the palm in the foreground would have shifted to the left.

A telephoto lens helped me position the plants in a pleasing arrangement.

Tropicanna Black

noreply@blogger.com (Steve Asbell) — Wed, 16 Nov 2011 02:51:00 +0000

I like to think of the Tropicannas as a trilogy of summer smash hit movies filled with action, drama and catchy titles. Tesselaar is the Australian based production studio where stars are born before being marketed to the masses with catchy names and full color plant tags. The most recent installment to this trilogy of blockbusters is deliciously dark, edgy and even has a surprise twist ending! The purple flower spikes erupt in a fiery explosion so intense that… oh, did I spoil the ending for you?

These silky smooth chocolate leaves are courtesy of Tesselaar Plants

Background

Our story begins in a faraway land, across the Atlantic Ocean. (Feel free to skip ahead if history bores you) The popularity of cannas peaked in exotic obsessed Victorian England, before being abandoned in favor of the muted color schemes made popular by designers like Gertrude Jekkyl. Luckily, cannas managed to survive in neglect until slowly gaining a foothold in the 80’s with new colorfully variegated cannas arriving to match the gaudy and wild taste of the decade. Cannas were recovering from the post-war funk, but it wasn’t until the late 90’s that they reached rock star status. Come to think of it, they were more like glam 80’s rock stars rather than grungy 90’s rock stars. Moving on.

At the turn of the millennium, the Tropicannas had arrived. They took the gardening world by storm with their distinctively orange striped leaves popping up in print everywhere as the perfect tropicalesque ‘thriller’ plants to add excitement to the border. Tropicanna Gold (the sequel) was released in 2003 with a perfect one-two punch of golden striped foliage and flaming orange flowers. Now that these party animals had made their way to big box retailers, entirely new color combinations were now possible to the average Joe gardener, at least to those who’ve never heard of cultivars like ‘Phaison’ or ‘Durban’ before. Variegated cannas were nothing new, but pushing them out to nationwide retailers with celebrity personas and marketing elements was just the star treatment that cannas needed to undergo a full scale revival. Hallelujah!

Tropicanna Black: The Dark Side of Tropical

After the dust had begun to settle, Tesselaar introduced a dark horse in 2007 with near-black foliage and blooms that melted from deep orange to a bloody crimson red: Tropicanna Black. Out of all three Tropicannas this one is the most subdued and versatile, but nothing if not bold and badass. If this was the third movie in a trilogy, it would be something along the lines of “Revenge of the Dark Side,” “Fade to Black” or maybe even “Shadow’s Flames.” If I was a gardener in my gothic high school days, I would write whole poems about it in my journal of bad gothic teenage poetry!

Like many ‘black’ foliage plants, the leaves develop a deep purple to burgundy that just approaches a true black. There are cannas with darker foliage (My mother in law’s ‘Australia’ cannas are darker) but Tropicanna Black is especially useful for its size; just tall enough to put those blooms at eye level, but not too large for container plantings. Oh, and if you couldn’t tell by these photos, the blooms are as red as my black and beating heart. Sorry, I lapsed back into bad teenage goth poetry there for a bit.

Mine were planted alongside the equally bold leaves of an Alocasia macrorrhiza, but for the best effect, contrast these big and beautiful black leaves with the fine textures of grasses and ferns. I would love to see this deep burgundy canna planted amongst plants with white variegated or silver leaves such as snowbush, silver buttonwood, viburnum or texas sage. Speaking of sage, how about incorporating the deep purple colored leaves along a sage painted wall?

Growing Tips

Tropicanna Black and other cannas are easy in any climate, but here are some tips. Cannas will have better foliage color and blooms in full sun, though Tropicanna Black can handle more shade than its two predecessors. Provide the richest soil possible and never let the soil dry out for too long. They can survive a drought, but trust me. It doesn’t look pretty. Cut stems off at the base after flowering to get new growth at the base. If you’re growing cannas in zones 7 and up, dig them up in fall before the ground freezes. Cut back the stems to about four inches from the root, and let dry before storing them in a cool dark place until spring.

See the difference between the Black and Gold Tropicannas in early summer?

How They Stack Up

When Tesselaar sent some trial canna rhizomes to my doorstep this March, I was still mourning the loss my last cannas and chomping at the bit to give all three varieties another go. I always end up losing them to nematodes, viruses and canna leaf rollers and never see them through to a decent bloom.

Tropicanna Orange isn't half bad either!

Here’s how all three did in my garden. The original Tropicanna Orange was planted in a drier spot and a soggier spot. The one planted in the drier front yard died, while the canna planted in moist and rich soil bloomed once or twice earlier in the year before slowing down in fall. Tropicanna Gold was planted right next to Tropicanna Black, but I never got a single bloom all year, thanks to leaf rollers and rotting stems.

A macro shot of Tropicanna Orange's flower.

The Tropicanna Black rhizomes were planted literally inches away from the miserable Tropicanna Gold plants, but had already formed a substantial clump and bloomed several times in the same amount of time. It could just be a coincidence, but these black cannas had succeeded in the same spot where I had lost other generations of cannas to a host of problems, problems that weren’t even touching this vigorous clump of Tropicanna Black.

My ridiculously corny verdict? Cue the 80’s rock star music and get out the popcorn, because Tropicanna is back in black!

Fall is Full of Flowers

noreply@blogger.com (Steve Asbell) — Tue, 08 Nov 2011 15:23:00 +0000

While much of the country is closely checking their forecasts for the next helpings of snow and frost, fall in Florida is a gardener's dream. We don't get to enjoy the blazing colors of fall leaves, but we Florida gardeners are also too entranced by the still burgeoning blooms to really complain. It's bittersweet knowing that a frost will blot out the color within months, but now is the time to be thankful; to celebrate a second spring of garden color.

'Ice Cream' banana peeks out from an informal privacy screen. This planting is almost maintenance free.

My tropical corner of zone 9a, planted with cold hardy bromeliads and palms.

Passionflowers bloom behind red spires of firespike.

Since 'my' garden is thirty minutes away at my mother's house, I don't get to enjoy it as a typical gardener would. I usually visit my sanctuary after work, checking on my plants with the aid of a flashlight while my family patiently waits for me to show up to the dinner table. Weeds proliferate and bromeliads disappear in my absence, and I'll often end up trying to tame the unruly passionflower vines in the last moments of daylight. Yesterday I was able to wander around the garden in (more or less) daylight, the way it was meant to be experienced.

A few weeds never hurt anyone.

I spend more time keeping these beautiful morning glories in check than anything else!

It's important for you guys to know that I only tend to this garden every few weeks, because a lot of people seem to have this crazy idea that gardens require constant attention to look halfway decent. Wrong! Sure, there is a 'living mulch' of dandelions in a few places where there should be groundcovers or wood chips, but the beds are so densely planted with prolific tropicals that the weeds aren't given much territory to conquer. While I walk around the garden, errant passionflower tendrils are ripped out and the yellowing leaves of my deciduous gingers are cut to the ground. I remove a few branches from the bottlebrush trees and weeping yaupon hollies to maintain their shapes, but never much more than that.

These figs weren't as tasty as the breva crop earlier in the year. I wonder why.

I can't grow vegetables without finding them dead on the next visit, so everything in this garden was planted to thrive on weeks of neglect and survive under extreme circumstances. The backyard suffered from drought this summer, while other summers drowned it in flooding rain. We suffer from hard freezes almost every winter, and temperatures never fail to reach a hundred degrees in summer. Traditional edibles are out of the question with my busy schedule, but unusual plants like lemongrass, arrowroot, galangal, turmeric and fig trees never complain about my absence. To tell you the truth, I have suspicions that they don't even notice me when I'm there.

These bottlebrush trees are finally beginning to look like trees and the firespike is blooming like crazy.

The clump of Alocasia 'California' is miniscule this year, thanks to the drought.

Black Tropicanna is a star performer this year.

The clerodendrum in the background is from my friend Penny!

Colocasia 'Elena' reverting back to its mottled 'Mojito' roots.

Even in drought, this established Alpinia nutans (cinnamon ginger) is taking over the philodendron.

Better late than never! Billbergia pyramidalis provides some intense color to the courtyard.

Tibouchina urvilleana (princess flower) contrasts brightly with the firespike.

Fall is a wonderful time in my garden, because the flowers are in full force and the foliage of tropical plants like gingers and alocasias are lushest before the freezes of winter. I was treated to rare treats such as a late bloom on my Billbergia pyramidalis bromeliad, and consistently loud flowers like those of the black Tropicanna, firespikes, tibouchina, glorybower and passionflowers.

Even without the fall foliage, there are still other cues to the changing season that northerners would appreciate. Bright red berries are beginning to obscure the foliage of my holly trees, providing convenient 'cut flowers' for the table as well as food for the birds. My mom's potted hydrangea's faded flowers are coloring up to a papery rose, and big sycamore leaves are making their way to our yard from around the block. I happily rake them up and create a natural blanket of mulch for my tropical plants to prepare for the coming winter.
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A Tour of the Balcony

noreply@blogger.com (Steve Asbell) — Wed, 02 Nov 2011 02:47:00 +0000

I'm exhausted! Today I finally got around to doing everything on the balcony that I've been putting off for the last several months. I deep cleaned every nook and cranny, mounted plants on cork slabs, re-potted seedlings, re-arranged plants, and threw away plants that weren't pulling their weight. That's right, I was so hellbent on attaining balcony perfection that I was willing to ditch any plants that weren't worth keeping. What have I become?

I trashed those sickly Neoregelia carolinae bromeliads (they're common anyways) and the unhealthy rhipsalis baccifera (I have healthier ones) that hung like limp spaghetti from the balcony ledge and a few other stragglers as well. And you know what? It felt good! Life is too short, the balcony is too small and my time is too valuable to waste on weaklings that I could care less about. Please tell me I'm not entirely heartless.

Apart from cleaning house and saying goodbye to some puny plants, I also got around to mounting some epiphytes on the cork slabs that I bought at the Tropiflora fall festival. The small one up top is a medley of tillandsias, below and to the left is a larger slab that's mounted with a cattleya and some dischidias, and below that is Vriesea 'Komet' sharing a medium slab with some cuttings of the Rhipsalis baccifera that i took before I ditched it.To the right is a staghorn fern perched in a metal bucket, and to the far left is one of my rainforest drops. Actually, it's the one from the banner in the sidebar!

Remember my little vertical garden? It's becoming better established now and could technically be mounted flat on the wall, but I'd rather wait until after winter. Besides, it looks nice where it's at for the time being! Maybe I can outfit it with a custom frame by then to really make it pop.

This is one of my newer purchases, a dischidia. It's an epiphytic vine related to hoyas and milkweed that likes to hang in long strands like pearls. I hung it over the sliding glass door since it hangs straight down and doesn't get in the way. How's that for vertical gardening?

I don't know how I'd get along without these wire baskets that I salvaged earlier in the year. They make it possible for me to utilize the ledge as a place to garden and they stay put in heavy winds. Even the nor-easter that we had a few weeks ago was unable to make them budge! All of my seedlings, cuttings and mature plants can be nestled together so that watering is a breeze and they're as close to the sunlight as possible. They're like window boxes, only more versatile! I also have an Oncidium 'Sherry Baby' hanging its chocolate scented flowers over the ledge for neighbors to enjoy, but I forgot to take a photo.

Here's one oncidium that I did remember to get a shot of! Believe it or not, it's wrapped its roots around the metal shelving, effectively convincing me to bring the whole shelf indoors when the freezes arrive. I'd hate to damage those roots!

This landscape in miniature is home to two stoned crabs... wait, let me explain. The sand colored stones are really ghost crabs that became encased in coquina limestone, leaving a recognizably crabby shape. Isn't that just the coolest thing you've ever seen?

Well, I hope you enjoyed the little tour! Now that I've cleaned it up, I'll actually have room to walk around, write and eat my breakfast again, just in time for this wonderful Florida fall weather.
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A Very Botanical Halloween

noreply@blogger.com (Steve Asbell) — Mon, 31 Oct 2011 14:26:00 +0000

This year we kicked the jack o' lanterns to the curb, sent the mums to the compost heap and took a slightly different approach to fall decor. The wonderful thing about plants is that they're always ready and willing to sacrifice a limb in the name of good, clean halloween fun. Seeds, cuttings, leaves and flowers are all fair game, whether you're going for spooky or subtle. I know it's a little late to post Halloween ideas, but better late than never!

If you like to get a reaction from your Halloween decor, it's all about taking things out of context. We have a lot of fun assigning the bits and pieces of plants with improbable names like 'dead man's fingers' and 'pressed snake specimens,' displaying them around the house lit by candlelight.

Pressed Eel Specimens

These flattened and preserved eels are really just the stems of an epiphyllum cactus that I've rooted in water. They were stems that had gotten floppy and weak, so I decided to try rooting them in water before giving up on them. You could alternately call them giant tapeworms, I suppose.

Dead Man's Fingers

These are the propagules (rooted seeds) of red mangroves that we collected from the beach. We used these for a Halloween party a couple of years ago before they rooted and doubled in size. They were left out in a frost over winter, effectively making them into dead mangrove fingers.

Wart of Giants

These are the seeds of a South American tree by the name of Sacoglottis amazonica. Their common name in Spanish is 'cojon de burro' and is even more disgusting than the name I've assigned. These seeds were collected from the beach as drift seeds and placed on a flat bed scanner for their close up.

Frog Bones

No frogs were harmed in the making of this plant. This is a type of epiphytic cactus (like epiphyllum) with stem segments that closely resemble bones. Green bones. They even tend to fall to pieces when stressed by receiving too little or too much water, creating a boneyard of stems on the soil's surface. I usually remove them to root elsewhere! This photo was made extra spooky by staging the plant against a lit up lamp shade.

Medusa's Locks

These spiky and snakelike stems belong to Huernia, a relative of the common milkweed and the not so common carrion flower, another creepy plant. My wife doesn't like this plant because it looks creepy, so what better reason to incorporate it into your Halloween decor?

Eye of Golem

While they do resemble stone eyes, these are actually the seeds of Caesalpinia bonduc, a spiny shrub related to dwarf poinciana that grows near the shores of South Florida and the West Indies. The seeds often make their way to the ocean and drift as far as Scandinavia before landing far from home.

If you prefer to simply celebrate the changing of the seasons, simple displays of foraged pinecones, seeds and branches can create an engaging indoor landscape within the confines of a single tabletop. Here I've combined a scattering of miniature pumpkins with some sea beans (Entada gigas) that we've collected from the beach over the years.

Bare branches in vases of water always look elegant, but the look can easily be adapted for fall when you add a dash of colorful leaves around the base, mimicking the fallen leaves of nature. Just replace the leaves as they lose their color, and the display will look fresh all season long.

Bat flower is also a natural addition to Halloween decor.