Salt of the Earth

Atriplex canescens

Since there are no cattle roaming the neighborhood, this plant has survived several winters, and morphs into a new sculptural form with every season.  Four-winged Saltbush (a.k.a. saltsage, wafer sagebrush, buckwheat shrub, chamiza) is valued as a forage plant.  For us suburbanites, it lends structure to the dryland garden in winter.  I wonder if I will like it as much once it reaches its estimated height and width of five feet...

The Oxymoron of Prickly Buns

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They don't call it Prickly Thrift for nothin'.  Acantholimon is the Latin name, borrowing from the Greek word akantha, or thorn (I only know this because I purchased my first pair of reading glasses today and was thus finally able read the definition in my new Latin for Gardeners book, which had up until then been lying around, mostly unopened, since Mother's Day).  Contrasting with Acantholimon's thorniness is the mound-like shape and delicate, soft pink blossoms.  The garden is replete with such dichotomies!  This corner site adjacent to the sidewalk is basically a sand bed (also greatly appreciated by Eriogonum jamesii).  Turns out in Wheat Ridge our soil is equal parts of sand and silt, not mostly clay as I had initially thought.  No wonder the soil was pretty easy to crack through that first year.  Thanks to Kenton Seth for so freely sharing this plant!

A Mind of One's Own

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This Four-Winged Saltbush did not look like this a month ago.  It looked boring and grey and lackluster, its twiggy branches barely covered with puny and brittle leaves.  Nothing a little pruning by an amateur with dull tools couldn't fix! I cut half of it off (the dead-looking part) and almost right away it leafed out beautifully.  It has even started to take on the contour of the irregularly-shaped plot of soil in which it sits! Jim Borland says not to plant these, and especially not to prune them, lest you have an untameable beast on your hands!  My interpretation of this was "Great, I'll put one of those right next to the front door!"  I guess part of my emerging philosophy is that one must throw caution (and good advice) to the wind and try things out for oneself...

Three Dryland Favorites

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Gutierrezia sarothrae (Broom Snake Weed) is bright green, waves in the breeze like an ornamental grass, and is especially lush-looking this year with all the spring rain.  Tiny yellow flowers will arrive mid-summer.

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Though Amsonia jonesii is also known as Colorado Bluestar, its blooms are decidedly lavendar, especially in contrast to neighboring Linum (Blue Flax), below.

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Emergence of Color

Penstemon alamosenesis, Artemisia filifolia,
Eriogonum corymbosum (still just a youngen!)
and Amsonia  jonesii

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Space

The temptation to fill up the space is ever-present, both in life and in the garden.  For now I'm practicing delighting in the openness in the front yard, the brand new extra three hundred square feet of it, rather than rushing out to empty my wallet at the local garden center (this sort of emptiness is all to familiar...).  Today I went to the May Day celebration at Harlequin's and had enough self restraint to walk away with three plants.  Tomorrow I'll plant Amelancheir alnifolia, Zinnia grandiflora and another Gutierrezia sarothrae, my favorite native as of late.

Forgetfulness

I can't worry about this too much, the fact that the agave appears to be dead (the leaves are white and floppy at the base). It didn't appreciate having had snow heaped on top of it for several days.  I've known this about agaves, but temporarily forgot.  When I came out of my amnesia, I'd had enough sense to carefully remove about six inches of snow from the top.  The crown did not care for the snow that remained there for several more days, ending up ruined. Good thing the plant had sprouted several pups last summer.