A true-blue grouping (left) in Sunset Magazine’s test gardens; Silvery succulents (right) thrive in ice-blue containers for a satisfying grouping at Longwood Gardens, 2006

Ever since I relocated from Seattle to Los Angeles, nearly 2 years ago now, I have relied more than ever on container gardening. With a confounding, on-again, off-again irrigation system that will cost the equivalent of a year’s grad-school tuition to completely repair, and with rock-hard soil that endured years smothered by the previous owner’s idea of weed control (black plastic sheeting covered with red lava rock “mulch”), I’m desperate to grow plants in spite of unwelcome conditions.

But where? And how to keep them alive when it’s too hot and dry for anything but succulents to look good?

The answer is a container garden. Gardening in a container is like one-stop shopping. Maybe we should call it “one-stop gardening.” Here are some of the best reasons for gardening in pots:

Why grow a container garden?         

•  Move plants and architectural interest above the ground’s surface:  You’ll enjoy beauty closer to eye level, as in this cool vintage vessel that caught my eye at Chanticleer Gardens in Pennsylvania (2006).

 

 

 

Edible and Accessible: Lettuces and herbs thrive in pots, like this over-sized terracotta “strawberry” pot at right – measuring 48 inches tall, created several years ago by the designers at Emery’s Garden in Lynnwood, Wash.! At left, ornamental peppers and kale in a pot at Longwood Gardens are food for the eyes.

 

 

Define a focal point: Signal the entrance to the garden, such as with these two glossy Asian pots that contain lush golden hostas. Mounted on pillars, they announce: “Come this way,” a way that’s made more enjoyable because this portal leads to the gardens of David Lewis and George Little, Bainbridge Island artists.

 

 

Provide a natural perimeter: Anywhere in the garden, such as at the edge of a deck or patio, pots can act as a verdant “wall” to contain, deter, protect or enclose. I particularly enjoy seeing three identical pots, lined up as a formal barrier – it’s plant-filled architectural interest. Here, at the edge of Peter Norris Home & Garden’s parking lot, these giant iron urns hold gold-streaked phormiums (left). A trio of fern-filled pots defines the edge of a formal planting scheme at Robert Dash’s Madoo Garden (right).

 

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July in Southern California dishes up a haze of purple in every hue. I recently snapped a few photos to capture the floral bounty around us.

It’s the weekend; time to be lazy and enjoy a little eye candy. So here we go:

Lavender-blue agapanthus cascades down the hillside in my neighborhood

This time of year, AGAPANTHUS takes over our “East Hills” neighborhood. Seattle gardening friends, eat your eyes and hearts out! When I first visited this neck of the woods, in spring 2006, I was blown away by the appearance — shall I say ‘explosions’? — of lavender-blue agapanthus blooms on every corner of town.

“Okay, I guess I can live here after all,” I thought. I mentioned loving this plethora of agapanthus to my friend Nan Sterman, a California native and author of California Gardener’s Guide, Vol. 2.

“Oh, Debra, they’re gas station plants!” she exclaimed.

As I’ve said before. . . one woman’s gas station plant is another woman’s rare collector plant. Imagine describing it as a commonplace “filler” for the corner convenience store! I know of a few passionate souls in Seattle who willingly forked over $15 for a 2-inch Agapanthus ‘Blue Heaven’ cultivar from Heronswood (or, elsewhere spent $20 to $40 for larger pots of this pretty purple South African native). And then. And then. Well, if my efforts were at all representative, there was the breath-holding that occurred through the wet, chilly winter months, as we pretty much realized the true-blue agapanthus wasn’t going to emerge in great shape the following spring. Like many tender perennials, well, they were pricey annuals. Or, they were in need of massive amounts of pampering, such as potting up the fleshy rhizomes and moving them indoors for the winter.

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Today, all I have to share are these photographs of my sole hydrangea plant. This pinky charmer lives on our covered porch, surviving the heat, I guess, because of its deeply shaded existence.

It is 90 degrees outside as I write at 7:30 p.m. With adequate water, this hydrangea seems to cope with close-to-the-century-mark temperatures. But if it wasn’t protected by the overhanging roof, it would be miserable.

In contrast, hydrangeas in Seattle can handle a few days of excessive heat, here and there. But their blooms and leaves get crispy when subjected to sustained hot-and-sunny summer conditions. All the more reason why I cherish owning at least one non-crispy specimen here in Zone 10!

This hydrangea was a “housewarming” gift nearly 2 years ago, given by my husband’s boss on the occasion of our move to SoCal. To me, “Miss Hydrangea,” it seemed ironic to receive a no-name, hothouse variety in a 1-gallon pot, cloaked in that crinkly-metallic florist paper. It nearly toppled over because the few enormous mop-head blooms were wildly out of proportion to the size of the plant itself. In my former garden (seen at left and right), I was lucky to grow several cool Japanese hydrangeas that were gifted to me by friend Richie Steffen of the Miller Garden. These babies seemed to think they were still growing in their native soil because they exploded in size over the period of a few years – only to crowd out the nearby path. (Although, I must confess that the huge mophead hydrangea shown here was also a housewarming gift that arrived in a 1-gallon florist’s pot: It was given by our then-new neighbor David when we completed construction and threw ourselves a move-in party in 1998!).

Back to this pink hothouse hydrangea, which sat on my kitchen counter and seemed to be mocking me. If she could have spoken, she would have said: “You think you’re such a great gardener? Well, guess what? No one here cares that you grew a dozen stunning hydrangea shrubs, not to mention two climbing hydrangeas, in your old Seattle garden. Try keeping me alive here in Zone 10!”

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