Brad and I went to a free concert last night. It’s been a long time since we’ve gone to something so loud with front row seats. We were surrounded by the rumble and brilliance of the thunder and lightning. I just went in my work clothes, dirty from a day in the field, and Brad went in his shorts and shirt. We found our seats in front of the pear tree.

It was actually an interactive concert, and the base was impressive—louder than the cannons in Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture. There was nothing predictable about the music that kept us on the edge of our seats. And the pyrotechnics! Rarely have I seen such a brilliant show. Brad I found ourselves soaking wet, but we stayed anyways. I guess we just enjoyed this momentary escape; the same reason we go to movies or read a good book. This Texas thunderstorm that was bringing the land much needed water was the best concert I had seen in quite awhile.

Eventually we decided we had had enough. We had already spent 10 minutes in the rain, and gone from unbearable heat 4 hours ago to shivering cold. A few more encore flashes of lightning, followed by thunder, and then there was a constant rain bringing the cold temperatures from high above and dropping them on us in liquid form. Brad retold me his story from a month ago, when out in the elephant ear patch his hair rose suddenly followed by a unanimous flash of light and roar of thunder that brought him to his knees. After the story, Brad left his front row seat in the middle of the field and went to shower. I stayed out until he was finished and then headed in, thankful that the best things in life really are free.

By mid morning my shirt was a different, darker brown, the only kind of color change that takes place when you are doing your laundry, caught in a rain shower, or drenched in sweat. The sad thing was that is was only 10AM. Either I’m not in shape like I used to be or it’s just plain hot and humid. My guess is that it is a combination of both. Up above the vultures circled, and I thought that if I just lay down they might take their opportunity.

Yesterday I was working on the old field, where I first planted bulbs over three years ago. I was harvesting some of our hoop petticoats (Narcissus bulbocodium) to fill the rest of our wholesale orders for the year. Unfortunately, I have not tended to the old field as well as I should have, and the grass has not been mowed in sometime. The tall habitat provided the perfecting nesting ground for a group of wasp. They had set up shop right were I needed to dig. A few swings of the shovel and some running, and I managed to secure the area. The wasp flew to another tall weed to regroup and rest in the heat of the day.

Inside my green zone I continued to harvest the bulbs. Across the way thunderclouds continued to build behind the first barn we used when moving here. It now houses old sweet potato bushel baskets. Around 2PM I finished with the hoop petticoats and drove to the other barn to package some bulbs. The clouds there made a spectacular display, as large anvil shaped thunderstorms accumulated and collected the sun. They shone bright between the cracks of the lower, shaded clouds. I picked up a picture book once that contained nothing but pictures of clouds. I loved the idea and the brilliant blues, whites, and grays were amazing. Soon though, I found myself bored with the book and put it down for someone else to purchase.

Last week I was in California for several reasons, but I will stay focused on the horticulture aspects of the visit. I will say that I ended up with a meeting on Route 66. Ironically, in a month I will have another meeting on Route 66, but it will be in Oklahoma City for the garden writer’s convention. There is a theme in this blog posting, and it is one of connectivity. Whether through roads, people, or plants, this country is surprisingly connected. This weekend I finished a book about a reporter who walked across Afghanistan about 6 years ago. A days walk from one village to the next sometimes showed a completely different culture.

My travels on this last week took me down near Pasadena in Southern California, so I stopped at the Huntington Botanical Gardens and Library. It is world famous for its desert garden and succulent program. I thought that the only thing better would be to have rain lilies surprising on lookers with colorful blooms intermixed with the already impressive 10 acre array.

Huntington is also known for its Italianate statuary and grand vistas. Every bed was not an abundance of color, but that is understandable when the “back 40” is what used to be a 600 acre farm in 1903. The vistas were somewhat vitiated by the fires in the foothills, but the smoke offered a unique panoramic I had not seen before. This is a picture of Pyramid Lake veiled in smoke as you cross the Grapevine from the Central Valley into Southern California.

Even with no views I would have been alright, as I spent more time looking at the ground and surveying the landscape looking for the old familiar foliage of the Crinum. I spotted them in the subtropical garden and in the Australian garden, where an unnamed Hymenocallis was in bloom. Many of the Crinum varieties were also unnamed. They can be really hard to identify and keep track of sometimes.

As we approached the library the beds took on a more formal appearance, and there was an increase in color and intensity of plantings. This was especially true in the rose garden and the herb garden. The arbors coved in wisteria and climbing roses offered a nice break from the heat of the day. By the mausoleum, a pomegranate tree was showing ripe fruit, and I was tempted, but resisted. There was a sign saying “Please do not pick the fruit.”Also darted around the garden was an assortment of amaryllis belladona bulbs. The closest we can come to them in the South is our Lycoris squamigera. I particularly liked this one that was slithering up towards the sun. The library boasts one of the first Gutenberg Bibles of which only 48 substantial copies are known to exist and only 11 of those are in the United States. Another treasure is its Ellesmere manuscript of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales with the Prologue to the Wife of Bath's Tale shown in the casing. After checking with the security guard about photographs without flash, I took these pictures.

After Huntington, we hopped back on to Interstate 10 and headed west. In case those of you in Houston were wondering what happens to Interstate 10 once you hit the Pacific Ocean, this is what happens. You will be forced to turn up Highway 1 and have the city of Santa Monica on your right and you will come to a complete stop in traffic. However, it's never as bad as the San Diego Freeway, the 405, shown below. If you could keep going straight, I suppose you would find yourself driving out onto the Santa Monica pier. Close to Venice Beach, I spotted crinums again, this time at a community garden plot. They seemed very happy in their confined space!

Back in Bakersfield I visited with a rose breeder, Dr. Jim Sproul, that had helped me out in different ways growing up. About 10 years ago we drove up to Visalia and he introduced me to a gentleman named Ralph More, known as the "father of the miniature rose.” This time, we toured his greenhouse and I was taken back by the colors, styles, and habits of his roses. You can check out more about his breeding and selections by visiting his website, http://www.sproulrosesbydesign.com/. An interesting program he is working on right now, is taking a plant related to the rose, the ancient Persian Hulthemia sp., and using its characteristic red blotch in the center of the flower to achieve reverse color patterns in the flowers. It has been a chore to overcome compatibility issues and ensuring proper blooming and growth habits, but the results look exciting! Best of luck Dr. Sproul and we’ll be anxious to see what comes next.

In Bakersfield, a patch of Lycoris radiata was beginning to bloom. I don’t think it would survive in the area without irrigation, but it seemed to like its spot along side a house. I didn’t have my camera with me. The smoke from the fires had spilled into our valley and made a nice sunset display for the last night in the old home. My dad and I enjoyed the evening on the deck after spending all day moving boxes; it was an apocalyptic sky.In the background is the Kern River, where it stops flowing freely and is channeled throughout the valley to all of the farmers. That night we slept on the floor like we did the first night we moved in 18 years ago. Somebody asked me if we talked all night. “No,” I said, “we were exhausted.”

I arrived back at farm Saturday morning. Brad and I briefly caught up, and then he completed some more work before heading to Dallas for the evening. I saw Kelly’s mom on Sunday (Kelly is the sweet potato farmer). She said he had already started harvesting his potatoes. We’re already preparing the field for the fall planting. Before long it will be time for Thanksgiving dinner and sweet potato pie!

I was very careful when it rained earlier this summer never to complain. It was too much at times, but I have never forgotten what Texas summers are like. Seven summers ago, a week before I started my freshmen experience at the Corps of Cadets at Texas A&M, my brother decided I was to help him paint a fence—a very long wooden fence—at a ranch west of Houston. My brother’s endurance comes from a hidden well deep down inside of him, and it is most evidenced through painting jobs that occur during the hottest times of the year. That week in August must have been one of the worst, but it prepared me for the next week of orientation at the military program. Over the past seven years of having no escape from Texas August heat, I have decided that I would never complain about Texas summer rains, find a way to complete all of my tasks in the morning and evenings, and work towards the goal of one day not having to be here at all. I am still here, working during the middle of the day outside, and there is no rain in sight.

There is however, still moisture in the ground from all of the previous rains, which is why some of our elephant ears are doing so well. We also have Crinum bulbs that continue to bloom, and this unknown pink variety has been sending up blooms throughout the summer. It has a nice fragrance.

After the guineas flew the coop three more times, I decided that they were ready for the great outdoors. They come back in the evenings and roost in the pole barn, while scavenging the field during the day for grasshoppers, ticks, and every other poor insect that gets in their way. We are at 10 now. It broke my heart to have to remove another one from the cage a few days ago. I don’t know where the third one is that is lost. I heard him calling for his friends the first time they flew away. All of them were collected but him. I sat silent in the field for quite awhile, hoping he would chirp again so I could find him, but I went in when the sun went down, and he bedded down in the tall grass. I’m afraid the dew the next morning did him in.

The field is harvested and plowed, and it’s almost time to begin planting all over again! This morning the sun had a nice effect as it peaked from behind the giant red oak on the other side of the field.

I mentioned the Corps of Cadets for another reason. I completed that terrible week in August, and spent 4 more years with the cadets in my outfit through college. My junior year as first sergeant, I had the rewarding experience of working with the young group of freshmen coming into the outfit. Every morning for a year we worked together, developing the bond that so often happens. I was very much saddened when I received the word two mornings ago that we lost one of those freshmen to a small arms ambush in Iraq. Billy Edwards was the guy you just couldn’t help but like with his endearing and genuine personality. We all loved Billy and will miss him very much.

Brad continues to package bulbs today, and I have more tasks in the field. There was a lot of tractor work yesterday and driving between one location to the next. It was very odd to pull into the gas station for diesel and a Gatorade, but no one really seemed to take much notice. Kelly, the local sweet potato farmer, owns the gas station, but he was not in. I had his implement that I picked up from his barn attached to the back of the tractor. I cut the tractor off when filling up, not that you need to with diesel, but I wanted a break from the loud noise. “I go out walking after midnight…” Patsy Cline sang overhead as I walked in and said hello to all of the now familiar faces. Gatorade in hand, I walked back out to the tractor…"just hoping you may be somewhere, a walking after midnight, searching for…” I turned the tractor on. Didn’t need to hear the end. Heard it a million times. Heard all the songs a million times. I just wanted to get back and get out of the heat.

One of our favorite rain lilies is just beginning to open up. It is a pink one by the name of Zephyrantes labufarosea. Ours seem to bloom late summer into mid fall, but other growers have had success from the beginning of the summer all the way into the fall. There are also different spellings involved. We have chosen the one through which we originally received and identified the bulb. It is sometimes listed as Zephyranthes sp. 'Labuffarosa' or Z. 'Labuffarosea'. I have seen it growing in gardens north of Washington DC and in gardens as far south as Houston. It was originally discovered on a plant expedition to Mexico by John Fairey and Carl Schoenfeld, on the sides of a mountain. Thad Howard in "Bulbs for Warm Climates" and Scott Ogden in "Garden Bulbs for the South" both give a unique one sentence account of the bulbs naming.

Brad has released the latest edition of Bulb Hunter Monthly, that offers free shipping on our spring products. Be on the look out for Zephyrantes grandiflora and Zephyranthes ‘Prairie Sunset.’ We also posted a new video with Dr. Welch talking about the Lycoris squamigera blooming at his garden in Louisiana. I don't think the video captures the blue, but here is one more shot of the Lycoris against a hydrangea offering a good comparison.



I walked out yesterday afternoon to find that all of the guineas had flown the coop! There were three in the corner of the pole barn, chirping away, but the other nine were no where to be found. After putting the other three into their home, I walked the field looking for the missing. I had given up when I heard an old familiar chirp. I cupped my ears and moved real slow, and then I pinpointed them, huddled together beneath a cedar tree on the fence line. They did not want to be caught. I ran around the farm in a way that reminded me of the Houston Rodeo when all of the kids try to grab a cow by the tail and take it as their own.

All but five where back in the cage when they decided to run in amongst the high grass in the field next to ours. That is when it became difficult. I could walk within inches of them and they would not move. I had to wait for them to start chirping for each other (guineas HATE to be alone) and look in the general chirping area and wait for the grass to move. When I spotted one, I would quickly run to the area, drop to my hands and knees, and begin the hunt in the 2 square feet of grass I had now quarantined. After about 30 seconds of searching I’d spot an eye peaking through the grass and grab it as quick as I could. Then it would start the panicked chirp all the way back to the cage. Collected all but 1 and I hope he comes back today sometime.


The week before last I was in Austin and Fredericksburg and had a chance to tour some wonderful gardens. Of course, we ran by Wildseed Farms and the Blackeyed Susans (Rudbeckia hirta) were amazing. They also have a retail area, and were sporting some of the hottest items in the horticulture world, such as the chili petins. And after we toured the farm, we stopped by the Brew Bonnet for a look inside, and then it was off to Austin.

Austin’s eclectic crowd is evidenced in so many ways, which includes their gardens. This one was particularly fun. The stone entry way is filled with personal items from their family, travels, etc. People also come to the entrance of their garden and take different items from the little bird cage on the front steps while leaving something in its place. It’s interactive gardening that captures the neighborhood and Austin spirit. Jill Nokes has an MS from Texas A&M University. She has written a book on growing Texas natives: How to Grow Native Plants of Texas and the Southwest. She is a landscape contractor in Austin and has a new book coming out. Rumor has it she is talking about “sense of place” in the garden, a vogue idea in the world of gardening. Included in the garden was St. Francis of Assisi, and a nice little bottle tree tucked away in the corner.



A special thanks to Linda Lehmusvirta of for organizing such a wonderful tour. Linda is the producer of Central Texas Gardener with KLRU in Austin (first debuted in 1988) and organized our appearance on the show last August. What a fun host and delight to be around! Plus, she knows EVERY garden in Austin you could ever hope to see.

Since Monday, life has moved fast, and maybe that is a good thing. Tuesday the photographer (Dave Shafer of Dave Shafer Photography) for a magazine shoot showed up, and we didn’t slow down until the dinner party at the cabin that evening. We have a large garden group coming on an official tour this Spring and we enjoyed showing them around.

After some photo shots the next day, Dr. Welch and I headed off to Louisiana for a quick bulb trip. We stayed at his home near Monroe. It is a story in itself, but I will quickly say that I very much enjoyed his use of their native cherry wood for the mantle and flooring.

In his garden and many other gardens around the South, the naked ladies were blooming. Sometimes they are also called surprise lilies, but the scientific name is Lycoris squamigera. Ours on the farm have been very confused by all of this rain. After the blooms are done, we won’t hear from the bulbs until they send up their foliage in timing with the daffodil foliage. Their foliage will die in late spring, and we will again wait until sometime after the 4th of July for a bloom. This year, I particularly noticed the blue tints on the opening buds.

Also blooming in the yard were more Philippine lilies.

It is also time to start harvesting corn, if it is dry enough for the combines to enter the fields. Also in full growth is cotton. I find cotton, a relative of the ornamental hibiscus, to be very attractive, and I asked about other variable foliage coloration. I learned about brown cotton, that has a color similar to Casmir.

Once back at the farm, Dr. Welch and I took a quick walk around the property. When we were down in the ravine, I heard a noise that sounded heavier than normal. Then a squirrel fell out of the tree, followed by a large bobcat. Dr. Welch thinks it was too big for a bobcat and that it was possibly a mountain lion. I was very excited at first, and was ready to begin the chase as we normally did, but it wasn’t we anymore. Instead, I stood there with Dr. Welch and admired the cat and its single chasing leap half way up the tree. When it spotted us it abandoned the squirrel and ran away.

Later we prepared for another wonderful dinner, this time at the local restaurant, that included new friends and old. The next day (today) it was an early breakfast, some more social time with the overnight friends, and then back on the tractor. Also finished the new guinea cage and they are outside now in the pole barn. Everyone has gone home now. No Fisch so it's kind of quiet, except for the AC unit that shakes the place everytime it turns on.