San Diego for the Day

Balboa Park in San Diego is really quite special - great architecture, scads of museums (I think my favorite is the Timken with its gallery of Russian icons), interesting gardens and fun, quirky activities. I mean, where else can you visit "houses" of 30+ countries hosted in little historic cottages?

And in the newly expanded Japanese Friendship Garden, three baby Black Phoebes, clearly just out of the nest, quietly, very quietly, waited for a parent to show up. Hopefully with lunch.

What could possibly cap that?

Perhaps a double rainbow with dinner?

Front Yard Sleepover

It's nearly nine o'clock in the evening and do you know where your male bees are? Unlike the females, they don't have their own nests.

Well, some of my guys, and I think that they are members of the long-horned tribe (Melissodes) have tucked themselves in for the night - hanging on tightly by their mandibles (they don't actually have teeth).

In which sweet bower, you might ask? The purple Scabiosa anthemifolia, also beloved of butterflies and my young neighbor, Tessa, who comes over on a regular basis with her very own pink scissors and cuts a bouquet for her mother. Yes, of course she always asks first.

One bloom, one bee, you might think, but this flower (on the left) actually has a second bee, very snuggy, tight and barely visible on the left side.

For crying out loud, if this gets any cuter, I'll have to invite myself over to Tessas' to read Goodnight Moon.

We Love Mrs Collier!

Whoever Mrs Collier may have been, if she even truly was a real living person, her name lives on in this wonderful heirloom sweet pea. And everyone who lives on my street just adores her namesake.

Most people believe that sweet peas (Lathyrus odoratus) are native to Sicily and the southern Mediterranean area. But once the British, especially one Scottish nurseryman, Henry Eckford got involved with breeding and hybridizing this little wildflower, sweet peas have spread around the globe.

As an old-fashioned variety from 1907, Mrs Collier retains that deliciously strong fragrance that some newer sweet peas have had bred out of them.

Now I for one wouldn't trade away sweet scent. And I don't think any of Mrs. Collier's new local fans would either. We prefer to stick our noses in our own flowers and let those plant breeders mind their own businesses. Although in all fairness, as well as selecting for size, color and disease resistance, contemporary breeders are beginning to pay more attention to fragrance, too.

Sweet pleas prefer cool weather, so plant the seeds in the late fall or early spring. And keep picking the flowers - a real hardship, I know - because the more you pick, the more the plants will produce flowers until hot weather finally knocks them out for the season. Trust me, there will be plenty to share.

Garden Pestos

Clearly the basil is really small, so what to do when that pesto craving comes your way?

Any number of possibilities:

First (and probably my least favorite), is fava bean shoot pesto. Think pea shoot pesto and just use the tender tips of the fava bean plants, instead. For me, it was just a little too healthy tasting. Or bean-ish. Or simply too unlike pestos made from herbs. Though I did serve it on top of goat cheese crostini and that worked just fine.

Farther along that same plant is fava bean pesto - essentially a mash of favas, some mint or basil and the usual cheese, oil and garlic suspects. A better option for my taste buds.

And then there is sage pesto. Not only does sage overwinter well here (usually) but it also blooms early in the spring. I paired the sage leaves with sunflower seeds rather than almonds or walnuts which gave it an extra-earthy flavor, with parsley to round it all out. It was a hit.

Or you could move on to tarragon pesto. Since winters are so mild here, true tarragon doesn't fare well. Instead, I grow Mexican tarragon (Tagetes lucida). It also overwinters here, sending up new greenery once it warms up a bit. The flavor is perhaps more pronounced than regular tarragon, but I'm not that fussy. It's still pesto, right, and very tasty over pasta.

Lastly, I suppose I could just walk up the street to Trader Joe's. I'm sure they have something...

Got Blankie?

It's a Binkie. No, a Blankie. Wrong, a Cosy. Or is it a Softie? Regardless of its name, it's a big hit with our great-niece Amelie.



It was news to me that babies should never sleep with soft bedding - blankets, pillows, quilts, soft toys - until they are at least 12 months old because of the risk of sleep-related causes of death. Yikes and Double Yikes!

So this welcoming quilt I made for Amelie was put aside until she was older. But now it looks like she is more than ready for her Binkie. Or Blankie. Or whatever.

In fact, it looks like she is just about ready for anything.

Photos courtesy of Courtney Camperell

For Muva's Day

Consider Favas:

Only on this day, you'll have to do all the work...

A Different Kind of Strawberry Blonde

Yes, they really are strawberries, but they are small, very sweet, and these blondies (yes, they also come in red) don't really taste exactly like a strawberry - there is some tropical-esque overlay. On the other hand, I certainly have purchased quite a few strawberries which don't taste exactly like a strawberry. Nor much else, either.

But these are so good that it is a bit of a struggle to remember to share; when I find them, I just eat them. I plan on growing many more.

First Batch to make it out of the Garden

They are called White Soul Alpine Strawberry (Fragaria vesca) which I grew from seed last year. Now they are coming into their own. As an alpine strawberry, they are much smaller than the commercial ones, but the flavor is far more concentrated. We have grown red alpines here before, and this white variety seems a bit sweeter, more shade tolerant, and also much softer. Which probably explains why I have to eat them when I see them - they really don't travel well. Or that's what I going to say, should anyone ask.

In the Garden

So far I've only had to share them when I've wanted. No unruly critters have yet discovered my secret stash. I doubt that you can find them at the nursery, so only those who are willing to go the seed route will be able to enjoy them. Unless I happen to remember to share...

The New Easter Bonnet

The 2019 version

One Person's Trash

So what do you do when one of your neighbors leaves a giant styrofoam container next to ('cause it's too big to fit into) the garbage can? And you have half a bag of Portland cement kicking around in the garage?

Yes, I know. Any thinking person would walk on by and stick that half bag of cement into the garbage can (not too big to fit) and then wash her hands. But no. I had to buy a bag of sand and raid the coconut coir/peat moss stash to make a hypertufa container.

My only excuse - well actually, I have two excuses - is that I already had that bit of glass mosaic ready for something, but I didn't have a "something". And somehow I acquired a few too many bee-friendly plants and so, something is becoming a home for Agastache 'Black Adder'.

I certainly hope those bees, butterfly and hummingbirds appreciate my foolishness!

Not Quite the Super Bloom

But it's still one of the best and least crowded hikes on Mt. Tam. For this, you have to start near the northern end of the Coastal Trail and then walk towards the crowds.

Take West Ridgecrest Blvd. to McKennan Gulch Trail.  Carefully walk south along the road  ~ 100 ft. to the trailhead, and you're off.

The trail follows the line of the hills - no big ups and downs unless you really want to - and the views out are spectacular. Plus, if you're not feeling particularly kind that day, you can look down on Bolinas and Stinson and tsk-tsk about how all those very expensive homes will soon be under water unless something changes. And changes fast.

 Mid-March was to early this year for the big displays of wildflowers on Mt. Tam. In the past, it has been quite the show, but this time there were only a few California poppies (like three), a patch of Douglas iris and two blooming Baby Blue Eyes. Maybe next week will be better?