(I hope rice farmers will excuse the ramblings of this over-enthusiastic gardener)

82 grains of rice. What can one do with them?

It’d probably make a great meal … for a bird.

I had found a grain of rice germinating in one of my rose pots; part of the fertilizer mix of grain, husk and crushed shellfish.

I transferred it into a pot and placed that in a nymphaea tub. Then I found a couple more.

“Are you growing weeds?… looks like lalang,” someone remarked.

“Weeds??” I protested. I had visions of a patchwork of rice fields.

the dud

But the first plant turned out to be a dud with grains that looked nothing like rice. It didn’t look like any grain I was familiar with.

The next two plants made it all worthwhile when they formed grains of rice; a translucent green sheathe protected each pearly grain. I counted seventy-four on one plant and eight on the other.

The initially upright stalks started to become pendulous under the weight of the grains. The grains grew in length and changed gradually from green to gold.

Then an aunt dropped in for a visit.

She had hardly walked past the gate when she asked, “Do you know how I can grow some rice? I just saw a documentary and would like to try … just for fun,” she added.

When I told her about the grains on my rice plants, she thought I was joking.

It was a strange but timely coincidence.

Within the next couple of days, ripened grains dropped readily when I touched them.

I planted 18 grains in a pot for my aunt, and 20 in another pot a few days later.

Most of the remaining grains have either dropped into the water and into the mouths of hungry fish or have been pecked off by birds.

Well, at least they made a good meal for some, if not for me.

No, it’s not the tang-yuen or glutinous rice balls which the Chinese eat on the first day of the winter solstice. Nor is it the mochi, despite its Japanese name.

The Marimo was a Christmas gift from my sis. But how she guessed I wanted a Marimo I don’t know, but there it was; a velvety green ball submerged in a beribboned glass jar, and it was mine.

The Marimo literally means seaweed ball. When friends found out that I was planning to get more, they were taken aback. “But what’s the big deal? It’s just algae!”

The Cladophora ball may be just be algae to some, but it’s nothing short of an icon in Hokkaido, Japan. The Marimo has legions of fans, and I’m one of them.

I’ve changed the housing for Noel, my Marimo, four times in the last 5 days. I’m quite satisfied with the setup for now and I think Bauble is, too.

I devoured the write-up about Marimo care that my sis had included with the gift. Then I went online to find out more.

Here’s what I learnt. The Marimo likes …
- cool water; leave it in the fridge for a day once a week
- bright or shaded light; away from direct sunlight
- minerals in the water
- weekly water change
- weekly cleaning by rubbing off dirt and gently squeezing any dirty water from within
- to be kept away from greedy predators

 Some interesting things I noted:
- apparently Marimo babies form and eventually break away from the mother
- the Marimo grows very slowly at a rate of 5mm a year
- Marimo balls have been known to grow up to 12 inches in diameter
- putting some crystals in the water can speed up Marimo growth
- the Marimo dies from within
- there are fake ones in the market which are essentially algae padded round cotton or Styrofoam balls

Today, I got another Marimo to keep Noel company. Here’s Nova; which is means ‘new’ in Latin. May the New Year abound with blessings and glad tidings.

Happy New Year, everyone!

I was wondering if I had the French or the Russian tarragon. Let it be the former, I thought, since the French tarragon is said to be superior in terms of flavor.

It turned out to be neither.  It wasn’t the Artemisia Dracunculus or A. dracunculoides. It wasn’t even an Artemisia to begin with.

Mine was the Mexican or Spanish tarragon; a tagetes lucida, belonging to the marigold family. That threw me off for a while; I felt I was dealing with an imposter.

But then what’s there to mind? The tagetes lucida is a great tarragon substitute and is fuss-free. It also propagates easily and grows fast. This is one herb I can prune regularly and share with friends.

You’ll probably end up with more tarragon than you need.

If you’ve loads of it, try making a pot of refreshing tagetes lucida tea. It’s said to be calming for the stomach and the nerves.

Lately there have been clusters of small orange marigolds. And these cheerful five-petalled blooms are edible too! … just the thing to toss into a lovely fresh salad.

Care and propagation: partial shade to full sun; garden soil; water moderately; propagate using seeds or cuttings.

These tiny seedlings could never be mistaken for a weed; not with their soft, fine, scented leaves.

We bought a pot of Thymophylla Tenuiloba many years ago; a froth of small dainty yellow flowers which threatened to spill over the sides of the pot.

The original plants are long gone, but Nature has been propagating this seemingly delicate perennial without any help from me.

Lately, more stray seedlings have appeared and I’ve been relocating them to a bigger planter.

I’ve been thinking … if a small pot of Thymophylla Tenuiloba can be so pretty, imagine a wide expanse of this yellow sunshine. Maybe I should speed things up by giving Nature a hand …

.

Care and propagation: Full sun, well-drained soil, water moderately. Propagate using seeds.

A single flower is mesmerizing enough in terms of its beauty, size and fragrance; a tree in full bloom just defies description.

But much as I love it, I’ve never had the opportunity of growing the brugmansia; it’s too hot where I am.

Fortunately for me, the brugmansia blooms with glorious abandon up in our tropical highlands, so I get to see them when I have the opportunity to visit.

I have tried taking cuttings, but none ever made beyond a couple of months.

That is, until Calvin, another gardening enthusiast and a brugmansia expert, gave me a few of his Brugmansia Ms Emily Mackenzie cuttings. With his encouragement and numerous tips, a couple rooted and grew.

I transferred them to larger pots and placed them where they would get some shade.

Growth was a little erratic but when they stabilized, I looked out for signs of branching – apparently this indicated that it would be budding soon. Alas, the main stems just grew vertically.

Then one day, I saw one, then two buds! How could I have missed the initial signs?

The first bud lengthened quickly over the days and I went over the top, measuring it every day.

Soon a tight whorl of pale yellow petals and amazingly long tendrils emerged from the calyx. Strange … I had been expecting to see pink.

And then, it happened.

The pale yellow petals of the Ms Emily Mackenzie changed to the softest shade of salmon pink overnight, and then to a deeper glorious shade the next day. It was a touch of the Master’s hand; God’s masterpiece.

And the fragrance of the Angel’s Trumpet? Just heavenly.

Care and propagation: filtered or partial sun; top soil (shaded from the blazing tropical sun); water generously; feed regularly; propagate using seeds (not tried this myself), hardwood or semi-hardwood cuttings or by air layering.

my inspiration up in the highlands

My heart sank right down to my toes. Had I been taken for a ride?

“What do you mean? What’s different?” I asked.

“The leaves,” came the reply.

The leaves of the allspice I had were oval while the other was elliptical.

Okay … but the scent was more critical in this case.

“Is that the only difference? What about the scent?”

“Yours has a stronger citrusy scent. The other is more subtle and smells more like cloves. ”

 “Which do you think has a better scent?” I held my breath and tried to sound nonchalant.

“Yours,” he said.

I exhaled. That was some consolation.

But was mine an allspice plant then? This started a flurry of email exchanges and internet searches.

Google Search threw up dozens of photos of the Pimenta Dioica with elliptical leaves and only a few of the oval shaped ones. But that didn’t tell us much.

By now I was more interested in something else. Was the other Pimenta Dioica worth getting? Priced at just a third of what I had paid for mine, it was a no brainer. I wanted it.

I set the wheels in motion. Friends helped and one drove her set of four wheels right to the doorstep recently to unload the elliptical Pimenta Dioica.

The two Pimenta Dioica look like totally different plants. Could they be related? I’m not in a hurry to find out, but if you do know, please drop me a line.

Whatever the case, welcome to the fold, Elliptica!

Many, many thanks to everyone who made this possible for me. <3

For those who are keen to see the other plant, the article is here in http://typicalgardener.wordpress.com/2011/01/06/allspice-pimenta-dioica/

.

Care and propagation: Partial to full sun; garden soil, water moderately. Propagate using seeds (not tried to propagate this myself as yet)

elliptical and oval

It was easy to fall for the Mandevilla. It’s a handsome specimen with glossy ovate leaves and blooms that look like a cross between a plumeria and an alamanda.

Its climbing habit gives the Mandevilla a grace that the alamanda, with its stiff woody stems, lacks.

The Mandevilla comes in almost every shade of pink, white, red and yellow. What’s more, there are double petalled variants as well.

But just about every pest in the garden liked the Mandevilla too; the mealy bugs, aphids and scales loved it to death.

Perhaps if I had been more liberal with the pesticide, my Mandevilla would still be alive today. Its premature death meant I never got to see it in its full glory.

Whenever I see a Mandevilla at the garden centres I am a little tempted to get a replacement.

I’ve been resisting the temptation so far. … let’s see how long my resolve lasts.

.

.

Care and propagation : indirect, filtered or partial sun, well drained garden soil, water moderately. Propagate using cuttings

Why? Because I foolishly deadheaded spent blooms with my hands instead of using a pair of scissors.

We used to fill a pail with dozens (or hundreds?) of spent coreopsis blooms every weekend. It was a team effort with everyone deadheading a different row or section.

Those were the days when we kept planting and propagating, and somehow forgot to stop.

And we ended up with three long rows of brilliant yellow flowers.

Now, we’ve toned down a lot. We just have small clumps of coreopsis which are much easier to maintain. Best thing is, missing a week of deadheading doesn’t spell trouble. Nor is it such a dreadful chore.

But when it’s not all sunshine, trouble strikes.

Prolonged dampness causes the much dreaded fungal attack can decimate entire clumps of plants.

If you can give this perennial beauty good drainage and air circulation plus lots of sunshine and warmth, then you’ll be well rewarded.

Just don’t go overboard like we did before – unless you’re prepared to deadhead on a very regular basis.

Care and propagation:  Full sun; well-drained soil; water moderately. Propagate using seeds or by division.

I love the aromatic and succulent lemon grass chicken wings we get from the restaurant, but with today’s soaring prices, I thought I’d better try frying some myself.

Ingredients:

5 chicken wings, cut into two pieces each
3 stalks lemon grass
2 shallots
2 pips garlic
a small piece galangal
5 stalks curry leaves
2 tbsp fish sauce
1 tbsp sugar
1 teasp soya sauce
1 teasp curry powder
2 chilli padi (bird’s eye chilli)

Here’s how:

1. Mince the first five ingredients.
2. Marinade chicken wings will all the above for a few hours.
3. Heat oil in pan and fry till fragrant.
4. Bon appetit!

Wind chasers, birdbaths, toadstools, tortoises, ladybugs, garden gnomes… Each time I see one, I’d try to envision how it’d look in the garden.

I’d look for them at garden centres, flea markets and car boot sales. I’d bargain and plead.

I’ve lugged home ornaments from abroad that take up almost half my luggage space, and would hand-carry the fragile ones. I’d rather toss out my clothes or chocolates than sacrifice the garden ornament.

The lengths I’d go through …

But butterfingers has been known to carry an ornament all the way home without incident, only to chip it as soon it’s unpacked.

Chipped or not, these treasured souvenirs find their way to the garden, adding a tiny bit of whimsy to the place.

I should stop getting any more; especially since the latest ornament to catch my attention is a life-like lamb. Sounds crazy … especially since it’s life-sized too.

And it’s not cheap either. Now I’d really, really have to be crazy or desperate to buy that.