It's that time of year again ...
Friday, April 30, 2010



Why is it so ubiquitous? Probably because it's almost impossible to kill the stuff. It was the only succulent on my balcony which survived the exceptionally cold temperatures we had this year, and despite the fact that I overwatered it pitifully when it was still far too cold to do so, it bounced back. Leaves dropped, others turned brown, and for a while it looked considerably shell-shocked - but back it bounced.
The only thing you can do with it is give it away. And this I think is the clue. for I have never, ever seen it on sale anywhere. But it's the pass-along plant par excellence. When it gets too large, just break off the stems, stick them in another pot of earth - and give them to your neighbour, smiling sweetly as if you're doing them the greatest kindness on earth while secretly chuckling to yourself that you've managed to halve your stock in one fell swoop and make it sonmeone else's problem. Of course, she won't be able to kill it off either, so the following year she'll pass some along to her neighbour ...
And so it spreads inexorably, haunting the balconies of non-gardeners throughout the city. They'll scorch it all August, leaving it waterless while they're at the sea. They'll leave it to freeze all winter. But next spring, there it will be, proudly lining the balcony.

What type of sedum is it? No idea. I call it Sedum milanensis. And if that's not its name, it should be.
I have a love/hate relationship with the stuff. (As I said above, I have my obligatory container. Two in fact. Guess how I got them ?) For most of the year it just sits there, looking boring, grey and unattractive. And then for a couple of weeks in April, it explodes and it's glorious. And not only do I enjoy miy own but I'm also fascinated by looking up and seeing all the yellow-lined balconies. Why else do you think this is the second post on the same topic in three years?
So hooray for the sedum. If only because it encourages non-gardeners to have at least one plant on their balconies, to my mind it's earned its place on mine.
The Big Chill
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
On the night I left Milan for the Christmas holidays, the temperature was forecast to drop to -14°C (7°F). That's unheard of here. Sometimes in January we might get -6°C (21°F), but that's about the limit.
There wasn't much I could do. The plants on the balcony were already covered in fleece and tucked up against the walls of the house. And quite honestly, I was too busy packing to worry.
But all through the holidays, it was at the back of my mind. What would I find when I got back? Would anything survive?
When I got back, pulling off the fleece to check was not a happy experience. In particular, the succulents had been decimated. The sedum seems to have pulled through, but my lovely, lovely money plant (Crassula ovata) has been frozen to death ...

as has the prickly pear ...

and the mesembrantheum. But at least that saves me having to decide whether to throw it out as I'd been thinking of.

I'm worried to about the aloe. The outer leaves have gone but the centre doesn't look too bad. Will it make it?

I've lost other plants too - the spider plants have been massacred ...

All these are plants which, with due protection, have always overwintered outside without problems. Yet, amazingly, the plants I was most worried about - the annuals that were hardly more than at seedling stage, and the more delicate perennials like my plumbago - all seem to have come through unscathed. I've lost a couple of hollyhocks, but the rest are all there. Even my chrysanthemums - in full bloom when I left. At first sight I thought I'd lost them ...

But look what's happening around the back...

In theory, the coldest period of the year is yet to come - in the next week or so. But fingers crossed that nothing will exceed the pre-Christmas period.
PS : Apologies for the time lapse since the last post. I have been swamped with work. But from now on, things will be back to normal - promise.
Read more...
Talking (sternly) to my mesembryanthemum
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
I didn't blame you the first year. Well, you should know me well enough by now. When have I ever condemned a plant without checking first? And sure enough, all the sites told me you wouldn't flower if you were overwatered. So I cut back. And still nothing. The next year I cut back still further. You just turned brown and tatty.
Now credit where credits due - I've tried hard. I've tried fertilising and not fertilising. I've put you in the sun, out of the sun, half in half out. And still you just sit there. I've pruned you back, I've let you grow, I've taken cuttings. And where did that get me? I now have two of you who won't flower instead of one.
So here we are again. You're supposed to flower from June to August and what have you given me? Not so much as a bud.
Well I'm sorry, but I've had enough. You know I never throw a plant away unless it dies, but I think you're just taking advantage. You're a tatty mess and you refuse to perform. So this is your last chance. I'm afraid you take up too much space for me to be patient any longer. I've checked all the gardening sites I can find, and I'm following their advice to the letter. I've put you in the sunniest spot I can. I'm watering very moderately and you're not getting fertilised if you beg for it. But this is it - you give me some flowers by August or I'm afraid we'll be parting company.
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Agave or Aloe?
Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Gardener's Bloom Day : Sedum
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Crassula Ovata
Monday, January 7, 2008
Hooked on Succulents ...
Sunday, October 7, 2007
The BBC seems to be hooked on succulents at the moment. Every time I go into their Science and nature news site there seems to be an article on some cactus bursting into flower. A couple of days ago I found this feature about a Hoodia plant, which has flowered for the first time ever at the Eden Project. It's native to South Africa and has always been eaten by bushmen in the Kalahari desert to ward off hunger. Research is currently being done to see if it can be used to fight obesity - hopefully it's not the flowers which they need to use.
But at least at the Eden Project they don't have the problem caused by an Agave Americana at the University of Wales in Bangor. If you have one yourself, don't plant it in your greenhouse ...
A friend of mine gave me the mother plant of the succulents in the picture (I've forgotten their name). These are cuttings I took a year or so ago. They've grown at a rate of knots, but they haven't flowered yet. Should I be worried?
Sadly, not my balcony ...
Sunday, July 8, 2007
Had a couple of days away last week to see my brother who was on holiday in Liguria. We took a boat ride from Santa Margherita to San Fruttuoso and stopped at Portofino on route. There are some fabulous villas there. I could kill for their bougainvillea ...
The whole area was full of it. Liguria is the area on the north-east coast of Italy, and as you can see from the photos, the coast borders immediately on the mountains - the southernmost part of the Alps. They're very low here - the locals refer to them as hills rather than mountains - and heavily wooded, particularly with chestnut trees. On the coast, the mild Mediterranean climate means that the vegetation is fantastic, with a mix of endemic mediterranean plants, and imported North African and tropical varieties, which flourish. I'd have taken far more photos, particularly of one gorgeous purple flowered vine, which was everywhere - but the batteries in the camera ran out.
Bougainvillea (bougainvillea spectabilis is the most commonly seen) is itself one example of an imported tropical plant, as it comes originally from South America. It was discovered by a botanist, Philibert Commerson, who named it after the captain of the ship he was travelling on - Louis Antoine de Bougainville. Bougainvillea are part of the Nyctaginaceae family, and therefore cousins of mirabilis jalapa, which I've posted about before. The brilliant purple colour comes from the bracts, not from the flowers. They can be grown in pots, but need a lot of sun and dry conditions, and constant warmth - one reason why I've never tried it on the balcony here is because I doubt I could get it through our winters, which are much colder than in Liguria. In colder climates it needs heated greenhouse or conservatory conditions - at least 5°C in winter. One UK grower, David's Exotic Plants, lists varieties which are described as "tough", but unfortunately they don't give details of what they mean by this. How tough is tough? The one on my neighbour's balcony is not doing too well, incidentally. The bracts have lost colour, whereas they should stay vibrant for months. They may have overwatered it, or maybe the red spider mite have hit. Or perhaps they're not feeding it enough - a fertiliser that's high in phosphorus and potassium helps to maintain the colour.
Back to the boat trip. San Fruttuoso is an old monastery nestled at the foot of the mountain ...
Although you can't see it from this picture, just the other side of the landing stage was a load of prickly pear, all in bloom ...
Prickly pear is native to North and South America. I can't work out if this one is opuntia littoralis or opuntia ficus indica - they both look the same to me and both have been imported to and are now common in southern Europe. In Italy however, opuntia ficus indica seems to be most common, and in Sicily and a few other southern regions, is cultivated for it's edible fruit -Fichi d'india, or Indian figs. They're easily available in the shops, though I have to say I've never tried them - perhaps I will now. But the sculptor Bernini must have liked them - he sculpted them into his Fountain of the Four Rivers in Piazza Navona in Rome.
