When we first moved here, we bought 100 tiny seedlings of giant sequoias. They were about the length of a new pencil, but much skinnier. Heeled into a long trench, over half of them did well, a rate of success somewhat higher than we had been led to expect. After a couple of years, they needed to be potted up to grow on for another two or three years. By then, they were looking more like they might amount to something. We gave some of them away, repotted a few to larger pots and scattered the rest around our place. Here is one of our seven-year-olds:
The idea is that one day the property will vaguely resemble the grounds of Reed College (minus the grand old buildings, of course).
Richard zeroed in on this Czothamnus ‘Sussex Silver’ on a trip to Cistus a couple of years ago. It is growing speedily, as predicted, but we have yet to see it bloom. Who cares? The silver, needle-like leaves are what create the soft texture. A correction, provided by the knowledgeable Loree of Danger Garden fame: it is Ozothamnus, with an O, still a fairly uncommon plant.
Here’s a close-up to show you what I mean. Who knows: it may soon become a candidate for a Bloom Day post if the white buttons that fade to terra cotta ever put in an appearance.
Sometimes a common plant can be just what is needed for color and texture. Chamaecyparis pisifera ‘Lemon Thread’ is one of those.
A long-dead Acacia provisima is hosting a party of beautiful fungi cascading down the trunk like a diva’s boa.
We are lucky to have all of the fascinating foliage to distract us from the recalcitrant spring, and lucky that Pam at Digging has created a forum for us to share and enjoy.