Begin Again

My oregano plants used to winter-over outdoors well and sprout new growth from the roots as long as I kept them watered. The last two years have been an exception; this year I found that the roots were as dead as the stems. So if I wanted fresh oregano (I enjoy it on open-faced avocado sandwiches and it’s my husband’s favorite herb for cooking), I’d have to buy a new one.


I enjoyed the yellow-green color of last year’s Golden Oregano so I bought another one this year. I brought it indoors during last week’s cold snap since it was newly planted and the garden center had it in a sheltered space. Oregano can dry out quickly indoors but it’s fine. I’m looking forward to lots of oregano-seasoned avocado sandwiches this summer!

Reaching

The avocado plant has now lost all of its old leaves and the new branch is reaching for the ceiling—at a slight angle, one of the branches, that is. The second branch, tiny as it is, is still green and may just make it; last time the second branch just turned black and fell off. I read the other day that after a year or two, avocadoes begin branching naturally. Though it’s not been the case with my other avocado, which did respond to pruning, maybe this one will decide that the pass-through window frame is the limit and begin branching—or it might curve. We’ll see.

The sun warmed the morning; I soaked in some vitamin D while I could, but now clouds are already gathering for tomorrow’s rain. I hope the sun returns today; I need it.

Only Temporary

The recent pruning of the avocado plant has proved to be traumatic since all the remaining leaves have withered and curled up. I feel about like that though I felt immediately better than I was after prayer at church yesterday.

However, at the very top of the plant--on either side of the cut, are two new branches emerging. As W. at church said yesterday this cold, and I would add, the trauma to the avocado plant, are temporary.

Trying Again

I checked one of my favorite garden books, Crockett’s Indoor Garden, to see if there was something I could do better in getting my avocado to branch; last time I cut it, it continued reaching for the ceiling--with only one branch. Alas, Mr. Crockett only said that that’s the way things are with avocadoes—they don’t want to branch and don’t make very good houseplants.

I’m not giving up that easily; I like my avocado plants. Somewhere along the way I’ve seen a huge, bushy avocado growing in a home, so I’m going to keep pruning--not that I’m looking for huge. Sooner or later it just might decide to branch out. Today is the day, as you can see in these “before and after” the haircut shots.

Just Getting Used to the World

My avocado plant is much happier indoors where it’s evenly warm though an avocado tree that has seen more than a hundred winters outside the Alamo—many with temperatures in the ‘teens, and ice, at last encounter, still branches broadly. But this young avocado is just getting used to the world.

Its temporary perch crowds and gives only moderate sunlight so I’ll be discovering a better spot soon. I’ll have to watch it closely to keep it from drying out (brown- spotted leaves are the price to pay) or I’ll have to transplant it to a plastic or glazed pot. I’d rather not disturb it unless it’s necessary, so I may be able to hold in some moisture by putting it in a jardinière (Wow, my spell-check recognized the word and automatically added the French accent. A jardinière is a decorative glazed pot in which to place a plainly-potted plant).

The painting in the photo is my mixed media painting, The Kingdom of Light based on Colossians 1:13,14.

To Grow Again

My “revived” avocado has sprouted two new sets of shiny bronzed leaves to replace the spindly top I pruned a month or so ago. Making the cut was a little scary but the plant will be bushier and more vigorous. It won’t reach as great a height but in a small garden that’s a plus.

Yesterday evening the full moon rose over a row of tables crammed with home-cooked foods as my husband and I and dozens of her other friends filled my friend B’s huge backyard. It was good to get out in the country in such beautiful weather. We tree-top dwellers are often limited to parks in order to spend much time with our feet in creation, so it’s especially nice when someone shares their yard. Thanks B!

I had some great art conversations, which sometimes turned to the subject of God’s speaking through his creation—the complexities, variety and sheer beauty of the things he has made. That’s why I’m so drawn to spending time outdoors and in my garden, why I’m refreshed there. God isn’t a part of creation but is revealed through it.

“For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made…” Romans 1:20

Progress

The hyacinth bean vines have made some neat-looking purple seed pods, hyacinth beans—the very thing they were created to do! I like the way they’ve arranged themselves as a cascading “mobile”.

Still more heavy rain fell this morning but now we have sunshine! We’ve not seen much of that stranger since last Wednesday or Thursday. I was beginning to think we were in the Pacific Northwest!

Now that autumn is officially here, maple and oak leaves around town are beginning to turn reddish.

No more white stuff has turned up on the soil. The avocado plant that I pruned has the smallest beginnings of new branches! This morning a moth delicately sipped from the pink pentas; I’ve never before thought of moths being delicate. The butterflies didn’t accept the invitation so I guess the guests will come from “the highways and byways”.

Branching Out

I’m trying to be positive about this. When I was a teen, I grew my first avocado from a pit leftover from dinner; I had probably seen a magazine ad by the California Avocado Council, which heavily marketed the green marvels in those days. I punctured the pit with toothpicks (no easy feat) and balanced it in a jar of water rather like a hippo on a tightrope. I was thrilled when it grew taller and taller; I knew I should prune it so it would branch but I couldn’t bear it.



Somewhere along the way I ordered Richard W. Langer’s The After-Dinner Gardening Book from the garden book club, which gave more incentive to prune. This morning I reread his account of letting his first avocado, Arthur, grow unfettered to the nine foot ceiling of his New York City apartment. Their solution was to take it to live in Pennsylvania with family. But how to get it there? He and his wife put Arthur on a skateboard and hailed several cabs to take the “three of them” to Penn Station, finally convincing a driver to allow them to shoehorn in the avocado tree. Langer wrote, “The ride down was uneventful, except that the [train] conductor looked somewhat askance at me as I stood beneath the shade of my tree in the passageway, observing the passing, avocadoless landscape.”



I had forgotten my current avocado planting; stacking another pot on top of one that seemed unoccupied. In rearranging one day, I remembered the pit. I gently dug below to see whether it had rooted or rotted. It had rooted! In time it sprouted up and made some healthy leaves. But I had to cut it. I’m over my reticence to cut avocado plants. Mostly. But prune it I did. It’s a little sad looking but I know it will be better for it. Now it will branch out.

The other day as I read the Biblical book of Zechariah I came across a man who was to be prophetic of Jesus, ”Here is the man whose name is the Branch, and he will branch out from his place”. (Zechariah 6:12) We Christians talk a lot about Jesus being the vine and we the branches (John 15:5) but tend to forget that branches branch out.