Taking Care of Baby

In years long-passed, my gardening efforts might have been considered a little haphazard. Though not without good intentions (and we know which road those pave), my horticultural knowledge, advance preparation, and follow-through were sometimes at a bit of a paucity. I was a too-young single mother trying to raise two kids right, working a job or two at a time, and scrambling to keep up with the multitude of life's demands. Plants in my care were often given a stern lecture when plopped unceremoniously into unprepared holes: "If you're going to hang with me, you're going to have to hang tough. I don't have time to mollycoddle you. Water, feeding, attention to pests and disease, and protection in winter will be touch and go. But buck up, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger!" Some embraced the challenge like soldiers; others languished on the spot and demanded to be returned to the nursery.

The kids are grown and gone now, and I have a little more time on my hands. And though still not without my share of gardening blunders, a lot more thought, study, and effort go into it these days. But nothing compares to the effort put forth for the newest arrival.

By the time the UPS guy pulled up to the curb with my little Tamukeyama Japanese maple, I had been working on its new home for two days. I'd read, and re-read, the planting and care instructions on Pacific Coast Maples' web site. The sego palm had been removed, and, in a carefully selected location, had I dug out a hole 6' in diameter and six inches deeper than I suspected the root ball would be. I turned over the soil, removed debris, gently put earthworms back in the pile, and mixed 50% of the original soil together with equal amounts of mushroom compost and Black Kow. A light dash of acidic fertilizer, such as you would use for azaleas, camellias and hydrangeas, was stirred in to the mix. I finished preparation 30 minutes before the arrival of my prize.

Safely packed in a box inside a box and carefully tied to a tall bamboo stake, my wee maple wasn't much worse for the wear for its trip all the way across the country. I had been warned to expect a bit of stress-induced color loss in the leaves, which would normally be a richer purple-green this time of year. Other than that, there was a small amount of browning to the tips of one area of delicate leaf tips, but that, too, was to be expected. Overall, it was a lovely specimen and a healthy tree. Thirty minutes after landing on my sidewalk on the 10th of July, she was planted in her new home and being watered. She didn't get the "hang tough" speech from days of yore; instead I promised the moon and years of adulation and doting pampering to come.

When she was tucked in for the night I couldn't help but stand back and admire my little sapling, imagining what it would look like throughout the seasons, year after year....

Three days later the browning and curling of the leaf tips had spread considerably and, like a mother whose new baby has the sniffles for the first time, I suspected the worst and flew into a panic. After years of dreaming of having one of these trees, considerable expense (on my laughable budget anyway), and significant preparation, my baby was sick! What to do!?

I took photographs of the leaves from all directions and, together with a detailed description of the planting steps and current symptoms, emailed them to "Dr." Greg at Pacific Coast Maples. He called me back and patiently assured me all was well. He had looked at the photos carefully and could see that, though I might lose a few leaves, the buds themselves were still quite healthy. He reassuringly went over the care and maintenance with me again, and spent far more time with me than my perfectly healthy paltry purchase warranted.

But the babying, Black Kow, and sweet-talking have paid off. The browning ceased, leaf loss was at a minimum, and in two short weeks my little tree has grown a full four inches (I measured). A delicate burst of lacy, bright, crimson leaves have sprouted from the top, with new buds are unfurling every day.

Aw, isn't she beautiful!

"Christmas in July" or "What I Did on My Summer Vacation"

Saint Nick left his red ride and reindeer with the missus today; he's coming in a big brown truck, sporting brown shorts, and he'll be here sometime this afternoon. I know, because I just tracked his progress and he and my present are "out for delivery."

I'm waiting somewhat impatiently (and very excitedly) for his arrival, standing ready with a shovel, Black Kow, and mushroom compost. I've been very good, you see - angelic, really - which (together with sole possession of a Visa card) has earned me this festive July visit. And boy, is he ever bringing me something cool!

A Japanese maple.

I fell in love with Japanese maples, in their diminutive bonsai form, as a child. I remember like it was yesterday - dozens of enchanting arrangements, many sporting their fall colors, at a bonsai show at the state fair. I was probably 8 or 9 and, other than taking the Pepsi challenge (which I intentionally threw because, who can't tell the difference between Pepsi and Coke, and why go

Image via Wikipedia

along with the crowd?), those trees are about all I remember of that day. Some stood alone, weathered and craggy, bending over rocky cliffs; others were planted in groups of forest glade, tiny pathways worn between the mossy trunks. I'm pretty sure I saw a faerie darting behind one.

That day, more years ago than I care to calculate, began my love of bonsai, Japanese gardens, and maples in particular. In later years, I can remember my dad speaking wistfully and with great fondness about the beauty of Japan, where he was stationed during the Korean war. Well into his 70's he taught himself to read Japanese music and play the shakuhachi (wooden flute) , many of which he built himself, until the arthritis in his hands and weakness of heart and breath forced him to lay them aside.

I've never owned a maple or bonsai, let alone visited Japan, but I've read many books and done lots of coveting. But now the time has come and I've been getting ready for weeks, transforming my little yard on a small budget, to a home worthy of its soon-to-arrive sapling.

Hot, humid Florida is not the most conducive environment for a maple. In addition, the allotted space in my wee yard wouldn't allow for a large tree, so I've done a lot of research in what to buy and where to plant it. Consensus has it that the Tamukeyama, a Japanese Acer Palmatum cultivar traceable to the early 1700's, with its high tolerance of heat and humidity, and 7'-10' size at maturity, was my best bet. The Tamukeyama is a lovely, weeping lace leaf which changes with the seasons from crimson-red, to red-purple, to scarlet in the fall. The dainty Tamukeyama has won a Gold Medal from the Pennsylvania Horticultural Society and the experts agree it is the most sun resistant of all the Japanese maple dissectums. They say it's the "connoisseurs' choice in red dissectums."

Yeah, that's me - a conniesuer.

Unable to locate a Tamukeyama locally, and after scouring the 'Net and talking to several nursery owners who underwhelmed me, I settled on Pacific Coast Maples, a nursery in Temeculah, California which specializes in Japanese maples, as my source. I spent a great deal of time on the phone with the owners, Greg and Jordana, who patiently provided a wealth of information in addition to the scads already on their web site. They have an enormous selection of maples, including bonsais. I described to Greg my loosely formulated schemes of grandeur to be implemented as time and money allowed, and his maple's star role in them: the maple in the front corner of the yard, just in front of the Golden Goddess bamboo; a little Japanese shishi-odoshi (deer scarer) bamboo water fountain in the foreground, tipping water into my brown pottery bowl; a Japanese lantern; large stones here and there; and a Japanese arbor across the path. He was enthusiastic about my plan and assured me he would hand-select the very best specimen he had within my small price range. He and Jordana treated me as if I were buying a $1000 specimen instead of just a sapling.

There's been a lot of work to get done in preparation for my maple's arrival. A 7' sego palm had to be removed from the place the maple will grace. I'm not a fan of palms to begin with (though these originate in Japan and it would have added a nice touch), but mostly it was getting bigger by the day and would have overpowered my maple from day one. I did some horse-trading with the old guy who owns the aptly named Hillybilly Rocks; he and his son dug it out (or rather his son dug while he supervised), and in exchange brought me 900 pounds of Tennessee field stone. I've spent the last two days tearing out ugly shrubs, digging holes, transplanting lariope as filler, and arranging huge rocks I could barely roll, let alone lift; I ache in places I didn't know I had.

I tore out the old wrought iron arbor at the head of my walkway which, it turned out, was sunk in the ground attached to rebar driven 4' deep. Nothing is ever as easy as I thought it would be. I was kind of sorry to see the jasmine go with it, but we all have to make sacrifices. The day the new arbor arrived was a big deal, too. It came requiring assembly, but the kit wasn't short any parts, the directions were clear and concise (two miracles back-to-back), and - God bless the guy who invented the electric screwdriver - it only took me about 45 minutes to put together. Getting it moved to its permanent location a little further up the walkway than the original arbor, and sinking it in concrete by myself was another story, but I was delighted with the end result.




All in all, it's been a productive week. I haven't accomplished everything I set out to do with my mini-vacation, but I have two days left. I think I may need them to recuperate!

Power wash house

Power wash fence

Power wash garbage cans

Paint side and back of house

Clean back porch

Replace locks on front door

Paint inside and outside of front door

Prepare ground for maple

Replace trellis

Transplant roses?

Spray waterproofing on fence

Paint kanji on door

Replace post lamp

Put in water garden

Dig out sego palm

Now where is the guy in the brown truck with my tree!?

Does this mean I'm not a purist?

I've been reading a lot about Japanese and Zen gardens of late.

The ancient Japanese masters taught that a garden should "be naturally clean like a forest glade, but not aggressively neat." "A boy or an old man," they said, "was best entrusted with the sweeping and cleaning" of a garden, "because they would not be too painstaking. Leaves that have been blown about under the trees and between the stones look interesting and should not be disturbed." *

I have neither old man nor young boy to direct in the tidying of my garden, but I have found that a leaf-blower, used sporadically, has about the same end result in a quarter of the time, with a lot less whining, expense, and aggravation as a whole.





* A Japanese Touch For Your Garden, Kiyoshi Seike