gardening inmediterranean climatesworldwide

Sedum rupestre 'Angelina'

2010-07-29T13:57:00.000-07:00

Many years ago, I first happened upon Sedum rupestre growing happily in the garden of a bed & breakfast where my wife and I were staying. When I commented on how interesting the arched flower spikes were, the garden owner, who did not know the species name, encourage me to take a few pieces home.

At the time, I was growing Sedum reflexum 'Blue Spruce', a cultivar that looks very similar, so I was careful to plant this new introduction some distance from the other. Out of flower they are very hard to tell apart, and both have yellow flowers. It is the flower spikes themselves that makes identiy easy (S. reflexum flower spikes are upright from start to finish).

Subsequently, we came to plant this golden form on S. rupestre in the raised planter you see here, topped with a rusty iron grate, the golden-green color making a nice contrast to the dark iron as well as the darker foliage all around. You can see the normal gray form of the species in the foreground. I was pleased to see the flowering this spring - a means to verify that 'Angelina' is indeed a cultivar of S. rupestre (it is sometimes listed erroneously as another species).

A typical July day here in Berkeley

2010-07-11T11:55:00.000-07:00

© MMIX Earth Environment Service (annotated by me)

Folks are often perplexed by our local ocean fog. Even though it is easy to conceive that it has evil intent (we just saw it stay offshore until just before 4th of July fireworks were scheduled to go off, where it rushed onshore!), it happens for reasons that are pretty easy to understand.

The Pacific Ocean is a relatively cool body of water, which moderates our coastal environment, keeping it from becoming too hot in summer as well as too cold in winter. Our interior valleys, far from this influence, do experience much warm summer temps (and colder winter lows). As this warm interior air rises (orange arrows), it creates a vacuum that pulls in air from surrounding regions. Often this replacement air comes from the coast, pulling the ocean fog (created by the cooler ocean) along with it (blue arrows).

Sights of fog spilling over our coastal hills are very familiar to long time residents. Sometimes when a warm inversion layer holds the fog down, this cool air can only come in through the lowest points. The main 'low point' along this part of California coast is the Golden Gate, which is why it is so picturesquely half-shrouded in fog. Where does the fog go as it spills through this opening? First stop is Berkeley, where we live! I work in Oakland, which often warms up during the day in July, but back home in Berkeley, the fog can sit all day. My tomatoes are not particularly happy right now, and the rose is developing mildew, and many other warm-loving plants are in a sort of suspended animation, waiting for the occasional warmer day. But those that DON'T like the heat are enjoying a longer season that otherwise!

something I found on YouTube . . .

2010-06-30T17:36:00.000-07:00

Not much I can say - you just have to watch this video for yourself!

'Gilva' & 'Gilva'

2010-06-23T14:49:00.000-07:00

The main succulent in this photo should be familiar to those of you who have seen my garden. It is a hybrid Echeveria I've grown for many years under the name 'Gilva' (discovered and described by Eric Walther in 1935 and presumed to be a E. agavoides × E. elegans cross). The plant habit is very similar to E. elegans, offsetting freely and quickly making a nice ground cover. The arching (like E. elegans) flower spikes branch dicotomously (in two - unlike E. elegans but like E. agavoides).

Notice the potted plant in the left foreground. This is being distributed currently by Succulent Gardens as E. 'Gilva'. The rosettes are strikingly similar, perhaps larger, seemingly slower to offset, and decidedly flushed pink at their tips (the plant above NEVER flushes pink - instead turning yellow when stressed). it also produces many more flower stems per rosette, which are un-branched and whose flowers are a bit larger, with a more distinct yellow tip to the petals.

I've been growing these side by side for some time now and while it is sometimes hard to tell them apart, when they reach this stage it is clear they are different plants. I still prefer the original (to me) 'Gilva' as it makes a much more effective ground cover and there are always lots of offsets to start new colonies or give away. The pinker 'Gilva' is certainly a good pot specimen, perhaps better than the former which quickly outgrows any pot.

what is a mediterranean garden - part V

2009-11-08T17:12:00.000-08:00

Continued from . . .

taking a break - photo by Marialuisa Wittlin, on Flickr
Your mediterranean climate garden should allow for you to live/enjoy your life. It is easy for us to feel that if we are out in our private landscape, there is always work to be done (and we should be doing it). This can be true, but we also deserve to use the garden for doing things other than keeping up the garden. It might take a little practice, but I imagine anyone can master it.
Keeping to simple, low maintenance designs and expectations will help. because our gardens are virtually year 'round, we need not work under a deadline to ensure that one seasonal opportunity to make the garden really shine. Our plant choices might be in their peak at any season, depending upon species. In fact, with a little cleverness, we can have plants coming into their best at specific times, different from their garden mates. Except for the overall summer dormancy (during which we may still find some plants performing), there can be a few or a number of plants in bloom and with seasonal interest through fall, winter, and spring.

Easy care Aloe arborescens
blooming in winter in
southern Italy - photo
by viaggiealtro on Flickr

In this way, no time of year is overwhelming. Some newcomers to this type of garden are daunted by the fact that there could be something to do any day of the year. But if one can shed the expectation that the garden is inevitably a lot of work, then the pleasures of puttering in the garden throughout the year are found. The more your plant selection is aligned with the mediterranean climate, the more your charges will work for you instead of requiring mitigation due to inappropriate growing conditions.

what is a mediterranean garden - part IV

2009-11-04T15:16:00.000-08:00

Continued from . . .

Now that we understand that our gardens can be a venue for all manner of activity, how to we design our gardens accordingly. Seating areas are always important - veritable rooms can be created outdoors, complete with walls if desired. Segmentation of even a small garden space can make it seem larger than before. Having space that are unseen until one arrives in them adds a pleasant surprise. Plus more than one person can feel 'private' in the same garden.

A paved generous pathway
between two garden rooms.
Le jardin provençaux de Pierre Bergé

Paved surfaces, preferably permeable, also help create the room-like quality to garden spaces. On a stable surface furniture can be placed, either permanently or spontaneously. There is also the added benefit that despite a cloud-break in the morning, the pleasant afternoon (not uncommon for mediterranean climate weather) can easily be enjoyed without having to endure soggy grass or ground.
Paved of graveled surfaces also protect roots and keep the soil cooler/moister during our hot, dry summers. Many mediterranean climate adapted plants prefer to get their roots under such surfaces - it is like the stony terrain to which they are native. Perennials that spread at the roots will often be found moving to the edge of paving, deserting the supposedly better conditions of the open bed. By the same token, the painstaking removal of all stones from the soil is unnecessary. (this would not include a garden that is devoid of soil, the ground being composed on only stones - which is another problem)
Well designed paving adds a great deal to the 'bones' of a garden, providing interest and character regardless of whether plants are dormant (in summer, remember) or not at the peak. The design of such surfaces should be in keeping with the overall design. Craftspeople sometimes get carried away with their expression - their resulting art should not command undue attention away from the rest of the garden. it is better to create special places for such follies, creating the sense of surprise upon arrival mentioned previously.
At all times, the material used for paving should be of a local source. Not only does this help ensure that your garden is in keeping with its environment, but also aligns with current green concepts (i.e. your material was not shipped from far away in addition to being torn from the natural landscape).

Straight-cut, stacked recycled concrete wall with tumbled crockery gravel, design by Shirley Watts (see Gardenporn blog article).

Recycling is always an option as well. There are an ever increasing number of salvage or recycle outlets opening throughout urban areas so that such material can be reused instead of dumped into a landfill. Be innovative. Open you might to the potential of any durable objects that could be used or incorporated into your surface.

what is a mediterranean garden - part III

2009-11-02T18:03:00.000-08:00

Continued from . . .

OK, so the seasons are all different - so what? Why does that make a difference?
I had occasion to travel to the Southeastern US for a wedding. Knowing of my interest in gardens, my wife and I were introduced to those locals who were gardeners themselves. As the wedding was held in early summer, there was already a fair bit of heat and humidity in the area. After spending hours being entertained indoors (with ample air conditioning) and admiring the garden outside through the windows, I decided to venture out to get a closer look. After stepping out the door, I was taken aback by just how hot it was and the humidity was already enveloping me like a warm wet towel! I abandoned my quest and retreated indoors. The host spotted me and informed me that she never goes into the garden after 10am or before 6pm during this time of year!

Le jardin provençaux de Pierre BergéPart of the beauty of a mediterranean climate is how many months of the years you can spend outdoors, at least much of the day. Sure, there'll be hot days when it is best to stay inside, or better yet find a corner in deep shade in which to sit where one can get the benefit of an occasional breeze. but much of the year, especially fall, winter, spring, there is very pleasant weather and clear skies. Doing anything that is possible outside becomes the norm. And consequently, planning your outdoor spaces to accommodate such activity become important.
I once read that English gardens are meant for strolling, which means that it is generally not pleasant enough to tarry in one place or even sit still, and Mediterranean gardens are meant for sitting, meaning that in this climate spending a fair amount of time in the outdoor space is very pleasant, even desirable. In corporating different areas for eating, reading, relaxing, or even working in your garden will offer you the opportunity to learn this for yourself.

what is a mediterranean garden - part II

2009-10-30T19:34:00.000-07:00

Continued from . . .

Being familiar and comfortable with our local mediterranean climate is one thing, but understanding how it influences how we live and make gardens is another, perhaps something more subtle. Those who come to this region from elsewhere are often surprised at how different things are, but that feeling gradually fades and is not always considered later.
One of the first surprises is how ‘up-side-down’ the seasons are. When California was being marketed as the best possible place to live back in the mid 1800s, they often featured rose bushes in full bloom in the middle of winter to appeal to those snow-bound during that season in the eastern US. While locally, it is not at all uncommon to find roses in flower in winter, they seldom put on the abundance found in spring. But there is a lot of growing going on during our mild winter months.
Since we only get rainfall during late fall, winter, early spring, and winter temperatures rarely drop to freezing in many parts of mediterranean climate California, it makes sense that this is the growing season. Spring for us actually does start in what others would call winter. Many plants have been putting on growth since the first rains of fall and there is a veritable impatience to get blooming in January.
So, in contrast to many garden books and magazines, instead of bracing ourselves and our gardens for the onslaught of cold weather, we end up with a period in which active growth resumes with vigor. Wait a minute! Resumes? From what?
Those who have lived through more than one mediterranean summer learn to appreciate the coming of cooler, moister weather in the fall. Locally, we experience approximately six months of zero rainfall. While we do not reach the high temperatures of some interior valleys and southern counties, towards the end of this dry season we’re ready to be done with the dust and the dried up vegetation. Many plants have gone into a state of suspended animation in order to get through. Even with supplemental water, plants know what’s going on and seldom perform as they might in summer rainfall regions.
This is our real dormant season – many plants have actually adapted a summer dormant strategy, dying down to bulbs, corms, roots. Or they might avoid the dry period all together as an annual, completing growth and flowering before the onset of dry skies. Even evergreen plants slow their growth, make smaller leaves, or even lose some of them.
We can also go summer dormant – with climate adapted plants we needn’t be out in the hot summer sun watering our plants, helping them through the heat and dry which they are not evolved to withstand. We can relax. We can vacation. We can rid ourselves of the expectation that our gardens will be at their crowning peak during the difficult mediterranean summer.
I once had a client who complained that each summer when her kids were out of school and they traveled back east to visit the grandparents, there was no one who would consistently water her dahlias, florist’s Gladiolus, her marigolds, her spike Delphiniums. Upon her return, she inevitably found these plants doing poorly. Over the course of a year or two, I kept suggesting to her that she abandon these summer growing, summer thirsty flower for those more adapted to our climate patterns. That there were flowers that could be had in abundance in spring and even in winter and fall – all times in which she was home to enjoy her garden. Eventually she started to understand and followed my advice. Now she is very happy with her garden and, guilt free, leaves it to fend for itself during the summer while she is gone.

what is a mediterranean garden - part I

2009-10-28T12:33:00.000-07:00

In the most recent issues of The Mediterranean Gardener, editor and current President of The Mediterranean Garden Society (MGS), Caroline Harbouri, states:

I have sometimes been asked what a mediterranean garden is, and have never been able to come up with a better answer than "simply a garden made in, and compatible with, a mediterranean climate".

I agree that there is no quick answer to this question, encompassing as it does the larger question of what is a garden at all. But, since reading this, I’ve found myself musing on the topic. Caroline admits her British bias (one she shares with many members of the MGS) in having revised her "earlier English assumptions about gardens" living in Athens, Greece for almost 40 years.
This got me to wondering about my own earlier assumptions.
We had typical suburban yards in my post-WWII neighborhood in Santa Clara, California – lawns, a token shade tree, a few foundation shrubs against the house. Not particularly exciting, or distinctive, each one interchangeable with another. Some lawns were softer, or sturdier, or some of a friend’s parents allowed rough activities where another would not. There was even the wife of a neighbor, who we never saw in person – we only heard her scold us through a screened window if we ever inadvertently happened to step on the corner of their pristine lawn (consequently we would dare each other routinely just to see if she were watching!).
But my school was in another, older part of town. Here, the houses were all distinctly different, and the plantings around them unlike each other or anything else. I thought of these as gardens – not mere yards. One would have vegetable, fruit trees, and flowers, in a charming disordered jumble. Other was full of semi-tropical wonders, with intoxicating fragrant flowering ginger, strange bird of paradise. Another was full of all manner of ancient found objects, arranged with loving care, half museum, half cabinet of curiosities. A large grand home, built in 1892 by Charles Copeland Morse, of the Ferry Morse Seed Company, was singular again – very Victorian grounds with a huge Southern Magnolia (M. grandiflora) as tall as the elevated 3 storey, turreted mansion.
I would often walk home from school (having spent my bus fare on a treat) through this collection of unique and unusual properties. Each had a character all its own. Many of the plants remain familiar to me even though I only learned their names many years later when I became interested in botany and horticulture. There were stories embedded in each, the individual personalities of each owner spilling out into the garden. Year ‘round, there was always something interesting and even surprising happening in these gardens.
Born and raised in California, the climate I came to know only later as mediterranean was all I knew. So, in later years, learning the definition and distinction of the world's five mediterranean climates, I rediscovered some familiar themes – those of childhood experiences. I saw the source of many of these outdoor living spaces – Italy, Spain, Southern France, Greece. I saw the culture of how to live in this benign climate and understood it from my own experience. Many of the preconceived notions that gardeners had about what a garden is were always foreign to me, and now I understood why. The mediterranean climate, and how to live with it, is what I had always known.

Cineraria maritima var. fairbairnianum

2009-10-26T19:20:00.000-07:00

While doing some research on a group of gray leafed plants, I came upon this very old plate and text about an unusual (and now lost) cultivar of one of our most common garden plants. The title of this entry is the archaic name of this plant, which might be more familiar if given the genus/species of Senecio cineraria, but if this form had survived to today, it would now be more properly known as Jacobaea maritima 'Fairbairnianum'.

New and Rare Beautiful Leaved Plants, by Shirley Hibberd, 1869, in which the above plate originally appeared, states:

The "silver-frosted plant" of English gardens had but little celebrity in spite of its intrinsic beauty . . . Like many other hardy plants that are treated with contumely [abuse] because they happen to be cheap . . . The variety figured was raised by Mr. G. Fairbairn, head gardener to His Grace the Duke of Northumberland, Sion House. . . Its peculiarity is its clear golden yellow variegation - a most unusual occurrence in a plant of this kind.

I had long read brief references to the prior existence of this plant in various horticultural references, but this was the first time I'd ever seen a drawing of the variegation. It is interesting that the variegation was visible at all - most of the time, these leaves are covered with short, dense hairs, obscuring the color of the leaf itself. Some forms are more green on their surface (still white-tomentose on their undersides, as seems to the case in this rendering), especially on older leaves, so perhaps the variegation was only noticeable as a particular leaf became fully mature (I imagine that the center leaf of this print is more mature than the lower and smaller two on each side). The character of this unusual mutation is certainly very Victorian in character, so it no doubt made a stir during its lifetime. Very likely, when the reaction to Victorian excess cleared away its various stylistic flights of fancy, this unusual cultivar suffered the same fate.

Winter growing bulbs signal the approach of fall

2009-10-25T15:50:00.000-07:00

With the cooling weather and some recent rains (after about a 6 month dry spell), our winter growing bulbs are surging to life. Arums, Chasmanthe, Tritonia, Dracunculus, Freesias, Drimia (Urginea), Muscari, Sparaxis, Amaryllis, Gladiolus, Zantedeschia, and others are reminding us of their presence by anxiously sending up new shoots. Sometimes we have clearly forgotten about them and are now clearing beds or moving previously dormant pots into more sunshine.

Mia, our tortoiseshell cat, recently decided that a small ledge created by a planting bed containing some of these dormant bulbs was the best possible place to appreciate the last few rays of the setting sun. You can see that she is not the least bit bothered by the new Freesia shoots rapidly trying to reclaim their place in this corner of the garden!

A pure white Salvia leucantha?

2009-10-22T16:27:00.000-07:00

We visited Cabrillo College's Salvia collection the other day and were stunned to see this plant. I had long wondered if this common garden plant (note the standard purple form behind) would ever produce a pure white flower & spike (another common form has white flowers, and purple calyxes). Now here it is. Ernie Wasson, the curator of the collection, said they were not yet a liberty to say where this trial plant had come from, or what it was called, but that as soon as patent issues in the US had been settled, they'd be able to propagate and sell this plant to the public.
This looks like what is being marketed as Salvia leucantha 'White Mischief' in South Africa, Australia, and Israel. In those countries there is another new cultivar of this species, 'Danielle's Dream', apparently from the same source, which has whitish spikes and flowers that are tinted pink. The white is not as clean - actually sort of grayish - which, combined with the pink, most people thought looked kind of 'creepy' (maybe is was too close to Halloween?).

A beautiful private garden

2009-10-20T16:17:00.000-07:00

A shot of the garden mentioned in the former post.

Here are more photos of this garden.
And still more again.

moving on . . .

2009-10-18T16:06:00.000-07:00

We had the chance to visit a beautiful private garden today and the weather was wonderful. It was fun to spend time with the friends we brought along, and have the opportunity to see this extensive garden again. Deb, my wife, brought to my attention this specimen of ×Graptoveria 'Fred Ives' (a hybrid of Graptopetalum paraguayanse × Echeveria gibbiflora), apparently unhappy with where the gardener planted it, moving off to look for a spot more to it liking.

I couldn't resist.

The Easterbrook Wellhead

2009-10-14T12:49:00.000-07:00

The Gardens at Lakeside Park have been around for decades but have been experiencing a renaissance recently. Among this new development is a new garden created around an old landmark. The Easterbrook Wellhead was donated to the city of Oakland in 1914 by a local benefactress. After being moved into the garden enclosure (probably in the 40s?) to protect is against vandalism, this beautiful landmark languished into obscurity, known only to those who worked in or visited the gardens regularly, and even they forgot the story behind the fountain.
Now, this rare treasure is well documented and a fitting centerpiece to a garden planted with climate appropriate plants from the various mediterranean climates of the world.

a tough, dependable, fern

2009-09-26T14:43:00.000-07:00

Tough and dependable might seem unusual adjectives to use when describing a fern, but this guy's adaptability is almost legendary. Because it can take such a large amount of abuse, it is often subjected to same, looking worse for wear by hanging on none-the-less. Given half a chance, Nephrolepis cordifolia, Southern Sword Fern, will reward you with its handsome foliage and ask for little in return. The upright nature of the fronds also makes a nice compliment with modern architecture (here it is against the wall of the new De Young Museum in San Francisco. An occasional topdressing of compost will keep a patch of these ferny fronds going strong year after year.

Wild Turkey: A California Native Bird?

2009-09-15T15:24:00.000-07:00

I read with great interest this discussion by Don Roberson (titled the same as this post). It was interesting to learn that California Fish & Game were the agents who (re-?)introduced this bird into California (I cannot recall ever seeing one in any of the places we traveled throughout this state during my childhood (to many decades ago to mention).
It seems like they've suddenly become very common in the SF Bay Area in the past 5-10 years. One does not hear about an adverse effect their presence has (contrary to the introduction of European wild boar!!).
In the photo above, my wife and I saw a group of turkeys sneaking through the shade of this Graton apple orchard in Sonoma County. They certainly seem to be very much at home, and easily find whatever food they need to thrive. I suppose that we may discover more on this topic in the years to come.
Meanwhile, would any of our Southern European friends like an American turkey to add to their local fauna?

Attacked by Wild Turkeys in Davis, CA

Mexican Palo Verde, Parkinsonia aculeata

2009-09-12T14:01:00.000-07:00

The unusual shape and texture of this interesting tree never fails to get attention. The open airy crown is supported by a bright green trunk, branches, and twigs. The laves are very long and feathery, giving the whole a distinct 'weeping' character. the tiny little pinnate leaflets fall soon after the leaves are formed, leaving the strong green midrib to carry on with photosynthesis. In extreme dryness, these eventually also fall, leaving that work to the trunk and branches. The bright yellow, red-orange spotted flowers are delightfully half-hidden among the filmy green foliage.
Truly a tree of character, native to the US Southwest and Mexico, yet still very adaptable to our mediterranean climate.

California Fuchsia

2009-09-09T13:46:00.000-07:00

There is something somewhat comforting about the regular appearance of Zauschnerias each autumn. This native comes in virtually a single flower color (strident red-orange), though there are a few white forms and a single shell-pink cultivar. Individuals species and clones range widely in form, from small to tall, spilling to upright, tiny leafed to large leafed.
But it is very welcoming to see these flowers at this time of year, when most else is still resting in summer dormancy. They announce that the rainy season will soon begin and the consistently warm summer temperatures will start to give way to cooler days.
I always like seeing them when they appear.

Oh, and they are a favorite of Hummingbirds as well!

giant Asters

2009-09-05T17:11:00.000-07:00

These giant Asters we once grew in our garden in Oakland. I was given them by a gardening friend who knew nothing about them (even that they were Asters!). They grew easily for us - in fact they continued to grow all year long, getting higher and higher, much higher than they did for my friend. Finally, they burst into hundreds (thousands?) of flowers all over their top half.
These flowers stopped traffic - literally. We then lived next to an traffic intersection. The huge mass of these lavender flowers caused people to slow down and even come to a full stop while driving by. This was especially true at dusk, when the bluishness of the flowers would start to glow with the half-light of the evening.
After about a month of this, the flowers were all gone, the tall, stiff stems had to be cut down and tiny little basal shoots would start the whole annual cycle all over again. Eventually, it was all too much to deal with and to devote such a large area of the garden to (these Asters spread at their roots significantly each year!). They had to go, but I still miss them.

Beaucarnea recurvata

2009-09-03T13:24:00.000-07:00

We used to live down the street from a very nice local plant nursery. While we all frequented this establishment, purchasing various supplies and new additions to our gardens, it was also a favorite neighborhood pastime to go 'dumpster diving' to see what they might have tossed out that we might nurse back to health!
One day a neighbor discovered this specimen of Ponytail Palm. She new i would find it interesting so she presented it to me one day on the street. Clearly it had lost its terminal shoot through some sort of mishap, hence it being discarded. I ended up planting it in a public garden where I was a volunteer, along side another, larger, more symmetrical specimen. It was already forming multiple new crowns and made an interesting 'bushy' accent to it larger brother.
Years later, it is starting to catch up in height and is also the first specimen to start flowering!! It was a real treat to see the flowers so close at hand (these plants get very tall and the flowers are always at the top), just head-high. The day I saw it many people also stopped to get a closer look.
Beaucarnea recurvata, native to Mexico (Tamaulipas, Veracruz, San Luis Potosí), is a member of the Agavaceae, related to Yuccas and Century Plants. A well established specimen is very drought tolerant requires little care. Their bases become very broad and swollen, giving rise to the name Bottle Palm. There are some amazing specimens in the Huntington Garden in San Marino next to Pasadena, CA. Too seldom planted in the SF Bay Area, where this one is growing.
My Spanish is not good enough to understand this Mexican video, but I found the hostess so charming and sweet, I wanted to include it here!

This blog's 'emergence'

2009-09-01T16:21:00.000-07:00

The Warning of the Urginea [Drimia] maritima,
by Tammara Hayimi Slilat
Like a pale ghostly finger,
a warning from down under,
the first blooming wand is sent
to sweep the cobwebs of complacency
from our sun blinded eyes.
And so, in the middle of summer's pleasure cruise,
while the sweet juice of a watermelon is trickling down our chin,
on our skin that has grown used to feeling free air,
the flower is drawn, pointed at our hearts and we remember
that indeed it has come out here last year as well.
But in spite of our excellent memory
it always catches us off guard.

I was prompted to post this bit in response to the emerging shoots of my own Drimia maritimas, signaling the beginning of fall with their leafless shoots. The rosette of leaves died down months ago at the end of spring and the bulbs have lay dormant in their pot till now.

Years ago, during my tenure as a Head of the local Branch of The Mediterranean Garden Society, we received word from a fellow in San Jose, CA that he "had a lot of 'giant Mediterranean onions' he'd like to get rid of and would we please come get them?" From my home in Oakland, I contacted some of our members in the South Bay and we put out the word that these 'onions' were available for the taking. I asked someone in my area who was planning to go down and check this out to bring me bad one or two of these strange things.

Turns out the 'onions' were in fact Drimia [formerly Urginea] maritima, the Mediterranean Sea Squill. The bulbs were indeed quite huge! I can't imagine that he was eating these as this plant is a well known source (in the Mediterranean) of rat poison. We never did find out where he got these bulbs, but apparently they kept multiplying in the narrow space in which he'd planted them and he'd had enough of digging out the surplus.

How these bulbs divide is actually somewhat unusual - rather than producing basal offsets, these true bulbs split dichotomously (dividing or branching into two equal pieces). Each new bulb produced this way will flower in the next year or two, so a nicely blooming clump is had somewhat quickly.

The few bulbs I ended up with from the transaction mentioned above have multiplied enough to be able to give a few away and still have a number to plant in a large pot. These previously grew on the grounds around a local school, much to the delight of the children and their curious parents. When they suddenly needed to be dug (because of some maintenance about to take place over summer session) I was delayed in replanting them. In spite of bring out of the ground, they decided to flower anyway, inspiring an impromptu photo opportunity with my family. Like some other fall blooming bulbs, such as Amaryllis belladonna, this tendency to flower while out of the ground is not unusual - just be sure the bulb is planted before the leaves appear later.

Here in California, a grower in the San Diego area now markets these bulbs for sale, so they are becoming far more common. Appropriately, they make a point of mentioning that these plants can grow without supplemental irrigation and are not bothered by deer or gophers.
Apparently the relatively slow manner in which these bulbs multiply (mentioned above) was a frustration for this commercial enterprise. But they discovered that cutting into the 'pad' at the bulb's base and planting said bulb up-side-down, caused it to produce a large number of tiny bulbils which could then be separated for propagation - interesting.

A fall flowering plant is always of interest to me - after a mediterranean climate's long, dry summer dormancy, it is exciting to have cooler, wetter weather announced in such an pleasant way.