My history with Hen & Chicks goes back to my childhood.  My Mom had a small rock garden at our house in Burien and these plants were growing there. The plants I have now are not descended from those plants, sadly, but they are just as carefree and enjoyable.  I have some in pots waiting to get planted into a suitable part of the memory garden next year. 

My first attempt to grow these plants in that garden failed, as I planted them in an area with deep mulch.  I knew this wasn’t ideal at the time, but thought I’d give these sturdy survivors a chance.  They disappeared.  So, I’ll plant them in a mulch-free and very sunny spot next spring and I’m sure they’ll do better.

Future plans include propagating more of them from offsets and spreading them around the street-side of the memory garden.

Pansies are another garden staple flower that don’t get their due because we all just take them for granted. Normally considered an annual, they provide multiple years of color in my Seattle garden in patio pots. Their strong seasons are spring and fall–they flag in hot weather and in winter they prepare to bloom and sometimes jump the gun a bit, throwing out flowers before a snow or hard freeze resulting in ruined blooms. This doesn’t slow them down much–they keep throwing flowers up until they get the timing right.

Future plans for these plants are to grow a few from seed each year to pop into pots where needed.

This fun cactus has large flowers for its size. I don’t remember where my original plant came from. I moved it to the greenhouse and it is surviving. This year, I transferred it to a trough garden with a few other succulents. Cactus tend to survive in my greenhouse but not thrive due to the lower light. There are a lot of big trees around that block direct sun.

I’m hoping this plant will bloom again in the near future and I can add some flower pics to this post.

An early garden memory for me is ordering seed for a specific type of nasturtium when I was probably thirteen years old and growing them on to flowering. It was the first time I remember noticing a clear difference between cultivars. The new seed strain held the flowers up above the leaves more than the old nasturtiums I had grown.

One of the very simple annuals that get taken for granted, nasturtiums have a charm all their own. They are extremely easy to start from seeds, which germinate quickly and the seedlings run to flower very quickly, too. The leaves are unusual and attractive, like land-locked mini waterlilies. The flowers come in vibrant colors and feature intricate, interesting forms.

Another charming feature in my garden and greenhouse is that volunteer seedlings pop up where I never planted them for years after the original plants were grown.

There is a dark side to growing these plants–black fly aphids. These pests will smother my nasturtiums and wear them down to nothing in the early summer. They can be controlled by spraying them off with a strong jet of water, but I often don’t get to that until it is too late. Luckily, the black fly season is a short one and I can start new nasturtiums after the initial aphid attack and get blooming plants from mid-summer on.

My future plans for nasturtiums are to enjoy any volunteers that appear and to order some seeds that I can sneak into my patio pots to fill in early before the slower plants get started.

It is time to plant spring-blooming bulbs here in Seattle now. Somehow I didn’t highlight crocus back in the spring. They are one of my favority spring blooms. They come earlier than almost any others and they have a cheery grace that reminds me that no matter how dreary the winter has been, spring is just a few weeks away.

Species crocus like C. tommasinianus seem to be more perennial in my garden. I’ve planted the larger-flowered hybrids and found that they disappear in a year or two. When it comes to photographing flowers, crocus make excellent models. There is something about their substance and the play of light on and through them that really lights them up.

I tried a few more types this last year. They struggled a bit with the weather and the rough ground they were planted in, but below is what they ended up looking like.

Future plans for these plants are simply to add more of them. I order bulbs pretty much every year and then its just a waiting game to see if they come back for a second year.

Here is an interesting vegetable cross between kale and brussels sprouts. I purchased a plant three years ago and it is still leafing out nicely in one of the raised veggie beds. Novelty is the best way to describe it. I don’t ever get the “kalettes” harvested on time–tiny rosettes of kale leaves that are the plants claim to fame. However, when they fully leaf out, the plant has a multitude of edible kale-like leaves to harvest and add to smoothies and salads. In all honesty, I rarely remember to do that, but they are there when I want/need them.

My future plans for this plant are to remember it is there and harvest and freeze the best leaves for smoothies and soups. It wants to give me food! I just need to remember to grab some!

Pacific madronas are fantastic native trees. They have sturdy, shiny leaves, attractive flowers, bright berries, and artistic, muscular form. Their best attribute, however, is their remarkable bark. The bark is a brilliant orange-brown and it peels away to show yellowish inner bark.

Several madronas have started in our yard here, likely dropped by birds who have enjoyed the nutritious berries. One of the seedlings is now a bushy small tree growing in the raised bed under the Douglas fir. It is happy and heathy there and grows several feet a year.

With my native plant efforts, this tree fits in perfectly. You can see that leaf miners have found it already. And maybe some leafcutter bees, as well, as some leaves are missing edges. I’ve seen kinglet birds sheltering in this tree already, too–they seem to prefer it to other plants in the garden.

There are other Pacific madrona seedlings that come up occassionally and I plan to nurture them and move them if possible and warranted to places of honor in the garden.

At the same time the Algerian ivy landed, brother Tim also provided a start of this somewhat refined ivy clone.  I’m not sure which one it is.  I enjoyed it at first and it stayed in check, but in the last ten years it has tried to scramble up the Douglas fir and is also spreading out across the entire raised bed surrounding that tree. 

It isn’t hard to see why ivy is a popular garden plant.  It is very carefree and very attractive in leaf with no care whatsoever, even in the dry shade under this big evergreen. 

My future plans for this plan are to admit that it has overstayed its welcome and eliminate it entirely from the garden.  This is especially crucial now, as the vine is heading rapidly toward the new native plant garden and may have overtaken my Hemlock sapling already!  It must be stopped!

When we added a raised bed around the big Douglas fir tree in the front yard, brother Tim brought me a start of this colorful and robust ivy.  It was a bit of slow starter and I never thought much about it beyond the fact that it had pretty leaves, but in the last five or six years, it has outgrown its shyness and aggressively claimed more territory.  Like many plants and people throughout my life, this vine leverages its good looks to overcome my better judgment. 

The leaves are much larger than English ivy and splashed with varying degrees of brilliant white and slate green, along with a very dark green.  It spreads faster than English ivy, too, but not in the same smothering way that H. helix does. 

My future plans with this plant are to keep it in check, but also show it off–it is stunning! And it is really valuable in the calmer seasons when so few plants are making any statements at all.

I wouldn’t be surprised if this shrubby evergreen tree is older than I am—it came with the house and has doubled in size in 26 years.  Normally, I think arborvitae trees are overused, but this one vertical focal point among the rounded rhododendrons at the front of the house is a nice contrast.  It was pretty carefree, but like so many of its kind, it is susceptible to snow and ice damage and has fallen apart before towards its apex.  Luckily, it recovered without much help.

We have used this tree to hold holiday lights in the past, which is fun.  Future plans are minimal—I will just try to keep it alive and green and upright.