Gallery of Gardens 2017 in Mobile, Alabama

The 2017 Gallery of Gardens tour ended today, just in the nick of time before the thunderstorms came. We dodged the weather this year with a successful two-day series of gardens tours through nine private gardens in Mobile, Alabama.

I had the great fortune of making it to five of these gardens (I still had to work too, so five out of nine isn't bad!) before the end. I always enjoy seeing how people interpret the space they have, and love to see what plants strike people's fancy. There were lots of oakleaf hydrangeas in this year's gardens, as well as an excellent palette of textures, and not so much heavy on the use of flowers.

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Click on the addresses for additional photos:


959 Augusta Street
Bob and Sherry Allen

Bob and Sherry have created an intimate garden in their outdoor spaces around their house. The front of the home easily flows to the backyard through the side gate lined with Boston ferns and confederate jasmine. I loved the pottery birds on the birdbaths. Great little plant vignettes, especially their combination planters that featured a Coleus with a Hosta.





261 Marine Street
Barry and Stevi Gaston

I fell in love with Stevi and Barry's backyard the more I spent time there. They have cleverly balanced the existing concrete with raised beds and planters. Each of their studios (Stevi is a painter and Barry is a potter) opens up to the garden, which features many places to sit and enjoy the many lines of sight through the garden. The koi pond features a fountain that creates the sound of running water throughout the space. They've even created an outdoor shower, so they never really need to go inside!




259 North Jackson Street
Jim Gilbert and Tim Lloyd

Agapanthus is one of my favorite perennials and I have to say, Jim and Tim did an excellent job place theirs in this intimate courtyard space. A large cast iron fountain sits in the middle surrounded by tropical plants in all size pots. They've really got a nice palette of tropicals. I especially loved the light pink oleander on the standard.

 



255 North Jackson Street
Pete and Renea Burns

It really amazes me how people have carves out spaces to live in the old streets of Mobile. Renea and Pete's home is cleverly disguised from the street behind a climbing fig-covered wall; once you see the door, then you go down an intimate passageway that opens up into their own private garden. A large window looks out into the garden from the home. Again, a lovely fountain (this one full of water hyacinths though!) trickles in the middle of a pond in the center. Their two friendly dogs were lounging and rolling around under two very large specimens of staghorn fern. They accomplished an incredible amount for such a small space.

255 State Street
Kelly Baker

Oh my goodness! If the stately oaks of State Street don't immediately overwhelm you, the hidden gem through the little black garden gate will. Kelly's garden ceiling is made of beautiful oaks, and she's festooned her garden with elegant statuary and lovely green and white combinations. Each little corner of the garden has something going on in it, and everyone who was with me was envious of how open her house was to this little garden. The use of mirrors and a focal art piece (actually painted by Stevi Gaston, another lady on the garden tour!) draw your eye beyond the dimension you're already in.

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And then to tie up the day, a stop at Roosters for some homemade peach habanero salsa and jerk chicken. Yum!

Trillium Travels: A Trip to Northern Florida

It seems my springtime traveling fate is intertwined with the flowering of Trillium....

What follows is a truly serendipitous, fortuitous story of when social media comes through:

Back in 2015, I joined Instagram on my way down to Mobile, Alabama where I would live with my grandparents and hopefully figure out what I was doing next. I ended up taking up a position at the Mobile Botanical Gardens, and I encountered plants I never had before. I used Instagram to post photos. That's when Michelle (@michellerecycles, @badassbotanist) commented on my plant identification requests and started following me. It wasn't too long until I posted a photo that Michelle had to ask Gil Nelson (@idigbiogil) to confirm an ID. From then on, we all stayed in touch about various and sundry plants.

Fast forward to December 2016 when I returned to the U.S. I got in touch with Gil to say hello, let him know I'd returned and that I'd love to come visit him sometime. He offered up the idea of a Trillium walk at the end of January or beginning of February. Yes, of course!!

And he made it happen!

I drove up Saturday, February 4 so I could stop by Torreya State Park, one of the few sites in the world where you can see Torreya taxifolia, Florida nutmeg, one of six living species of the genus and one of, if not THE most, critically endangered conifers in the U.S. I have seen it in the collection at the J.C. Raulston Arboretum, but wanted to see it in-situ.

The park was way out in the middle of North Florida, but was well-worth the drive out.

The hilly country around the Apalachicola from the top of a hill.

First Trillium of the Trip! We suspected T. underwoodii.

Click here for more photos of Torreya State Park!

The path I took went down some steep gullies down to the river and I got to see some amazing hillsides of Rhapidophyllum hystrix, Dirca palustris, Trillium underwoodii, Hydrangea quercifolia, Persea palustris and Aesculus pavia. It was a beautiful palette of plants. I got lots of inspiration for a woodland garden.

I stopped by the Gregory House on the way out and had the great fortune of meeting Pam and Bill Anderson, who were a dynamo husband-wife team who've been instrumental in plant conservation at the park. Bill showed me the champion Rhus copallinum, which easily had a 10-inch caliper, while Pam went back to their home and retrieved four cutting-grown saplings of Torreya taxifolia. I look forward to seeing them again.


The next morning I met Gil, Michelle, Jill, and Annika for a day-long road trip to see the four species of Trillium native to Florida.

The group behind the Torreya taxifolia in the left of the screen.

Rumors said that Torreya used to be huge trees! This one is

just a baby.

Click here for more photos of the Trillium Hike!

Our first stop was Angus Gholsom Nature Park, where we saw more Trillium underwoodii, Erythronium americanum, our first Torreya taxifolia group, and Zephyranthes atamasca. Michelle exhibited her mad plant selfie skills with some Trillium and Zephyranthes....


The second stop was just on the other side of the neighborhood and featured Aesculus pavia, Trillium lancifolium, and a few new ephemerals, including an herbaceous Smilax and Cardamine concatenata.

The third stop was on a triangle of woodland just near the dam. They'd done a lot of clearing of invasive Elaeagnus, and the Trillium and more herbaceous Smilax were able to thrive. More plant selfies ensued!

The fourth stop was on the edge of the clear waters of the Apalachicola to see a little hillside of Aquilegia canadensis and Trillium maculatum.

The final stop was at Florida Caverns State Park. Gil led us through down a trail of limestone outcrops on the banks of the Chipola River. The park features an underground tour of some of the caverns, but we stayed above ground to see more plants. There was so much Polemnia laevigata, Sabal palmetto, Sabal minor, and more Rhapidophyllum hystrix.

A Scottish Farewell: Glen Coe and Glen Etive

(1/9/17)- I apologize for the gross delay in a blog post. I have so many stories and such a backlog of photos! I will work on them as I can, but also try to keep moving forward in perspective.

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It was just by chance, a passing comment, that Raini mentioned that since she was no longer employed, she could do a roadtrip up to Glen Coe. Even now, I am not sure whether she knew at the time how serious I was about wanting to go.

It was fitting that a week before I left Scotland to return to the U.S. that I would come back to the place where I fell in love with the country back in 2003. Goodness, I was a just a 13-year-old then; but the Three Sisters are impressive enough to instill awe in even the most stoic.

The Three Sisters of Glen Coe

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I kept on Raini about when she might be able to go on this trip, and we eventually set a date for an overnight trip. Adventure awaits!

She picked me up from the flat in the afternoon in an effort to hopefully catch the sunset in the Highlands. We wound up the winding roads of the Highlands and did catch the last shadows of the sun on the impressive hills.

Hill between Tyndrum and Bridge of Orchy

We ended up staying overnight at the youth hostel in Glencoe (after the GPS getting us lost three times). The darkness of a clear night and mountain valleys enveloped us as we walked down the road to the local pub for food and libations.

The next morning was a tough start with us trying to get up early for the sunrise, with no food or cafes open. It was definitely a lesson in proper planning.

But the day offered beautiful views. The clouds came back, but remained high so we could see the mountains and glens. It was as if Nature herself was revealing her majesty to us. I was able to blow the Beltane callhorn to the Three Sisters and hear the reply of the glen, and Raini was able to start her photography project with Glen Coe as her backdrop.

Modest Beinn a'Chrulaiste overlooking the road to Glen Etive

Rhododendrons in the Middle of Nowhere: Helping Hannah work on her thesis research

The scene was like something out of a movie:

Scottish Sunset at Corrour Train Platform.

I'm the only who gets off of the train at the Corrour platform as the sun is setting in the Scottish Highlands. The train attendant gives me a coy smile and then shuts the door behind me. The silence of the expanse of glens and mountains around me floods my senses. The openness of where I found myself almost makes me gasp. The trains pulls away into the sunset and I am left alone with the mountains. The only semblance of humans is the empty platform and closed lodge.

Whoa. I was alone in the truest sense of the world.

The Lonely Mountain?

Not for long, anyway. I knew Hannah would come pick me up, but man, as I walked along the road towards Loch Ossian, , as the sunset behind the mountains, I felt an immense silence and alone-ness like I'd never experienced.

Hannah did come get me and what ensued can only be described as amazing. We stayed at incredible accommodation, ate tasty food, and wandered in a private Rhododendron garden set amongst hundred-plus-year-old conifers. We did get some work done, pressing plants and taking data for Hannah's project, but we also took time to enjoy being where we were. The mountain views over the loch and the soft mats of sphagnum moss were like something out of a faerie tale. Even for being eaten alive by midges, it was a once-in-a-lifetime trip.

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Isle of Iona: An overnight stay

The last stop on my May vacation was an overnight stay on the Isle of Iona. I'd been to Iona twice, but had never had time to stay overnight (there is no Sunday ferry or bus service in the off-season!). Finally!

Unfortunately, only my Instagram photos survived the return from Iona. They became corrupted somehow, This is a view from the edge of a cliff looking out into the beautiful Atlantic Ocean. The pink-flowered plant is called thrift, Armeria maritime. It was probably the bravest thing on the island, clinging to the very edges of sheer cliffs, hanging half in the wind.

It was an early start for me from the Craignure Bunkhouse, but the sun was well ahead of me. It was an easy-going bus ride through the beautiful Ross of Mull and the familiar pink marble hills of Fionnphort welcomed me back. The ferry ride was as brief as I'd remembered, but......the warmth of the sun wasn't. As I walked to the Iona Hostel, I broke a sweat.....huh? This is Scotland....right?

The day held so much potential since I didn't have to catch a 3 p.m. ferry. It was already past 10 a.m., but I didn't have to worry. I changed my shirt to something with short sleeves and headed to the beach. The day was clear and the water was aquamarine blue. I picked up rocks and denied the urge to go swimming (because no amount of summer weather would make the northern Atlantic Ocean water any warmer).

Intrepid sheep paths through the heaths to all the far reaches of the island.

I just continued along the edge until the beach ran out and a faint path passed out into the northeastern rocky crags of Calva (map of Iona). I followed it, climbing up and down and around the many hills of the coast. Sheer cliffs dropped into the ocean, into the arms of twelve-foot seaweeds, and heaths twisted in the timeless winds that beat against the rocky hills. The sun beat down and the wind blew around me, but still I followed the endlessly clever paths of the herds of sheep that had come before me. Who knew how old these paths were?

Wind-sculpted heaths of all shapes, sizes and ages.

Once I came out onto a strange hanging field with towering cliffs on either side of it. A perfect grass edge ended in a sea of perfectly smooth stones. In the middle of the sea was a low ruin of a stone wall. The herd of sheep beyond were as surprised to see me as I was to see this wall. I was in the middle of no where, having no idea how long I'd been walking, but here was this ruin. Later, I would find out it is the rumored secret hermitage of St. Columba himself, now known at the Hermit's Cell.

After about three hours of random, extreme hillwalking, I made my way southwest, by way of the sheep paths, as I knew there was a farm that way. I passed the carcass of a sheep that had fallen from a cliff; a stark reminder that what I was doing was still dangerous and that not all sheep are graceful. I came out to a rolling field of perfect green grass, good enough to make any golf course manager jealous, that was being grazed by a formidable herd of even more sheep. I made my way across the field, careful to keep my path straight and away from the sheep with their new lambs, toward the Bay of Angels.

The tide was lower than I'd ever seen it and it made the familiar bay look completely new. I walked through bands of abandoned seaweed stipes and down to look for more stones. I played in the sand and forgot for a moment that I was in Scotland: it felt like a day at the beach back home. I took a brief nap on the beach, listening the tide slip away further and the seabirds cry to each other. I felt my exposed skin start to burn, surprisingly.

My final adventure of the day was to find out where the path I'd seen people coming down on the far end of the bay went. I'd been to the island twice and had never noticed it before. It was a steep climb, well-pounded by foot and hoof. I came to a hanging lake, Loch Staonaig, fenced off from the roaming herds of sheep and cattle, which might have been the source of drinking water for the island. The path itself was in good shape; obviously well-tended. Piles of cairns, rocks of offering, pilgrimage, and homage, dotted the path. I realized I was on the path to St. Columba's Bay.

I came over a hill to see the bay below me. It was a half-moon bay with another sea of perfectly-smooth stones between the cattle and grass, and the waters of the ocean. I carefully passed through the herd of cattle and came to the edge of the sea of stone. There were piles of cairns everywhere, of all shapes and sizes. The logistics of the whole scene made no sense. How had this place come to be this way?

Again, I had the whole place to myself, and enjoyed the sound of the waves and the changing tide as I looked for more stones. What an enchanted end to a solid day of adventures.....

Hiking up Dun da Ghaoithe, "the fork of the two winds"

Don't let the Gaelic spelling (click here for the pronunciation) of this gorgeous Corbett intimidate you; instead try out the view!

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No, although the photos do not do it justice, this mountain is more of a gentle giant. The scale is hard to understand from all the photos, but trust me when I say it's spectacular.

Approaching the beginning....

My climb began mid-morning to cool winds and an overcast sky. I was hoping for better weather, but I wasn't going to be deterred: I was finally getting to climb the mountain I've been looking at for months!

Spring had come to the mountain and little woodland ephemerals of all kinds poked out of the grass. The bracken fronds were unfurling, the bog pink was blooming, and the Primulas were everywhere. I began the ascent easily enough, stopping often to peek at the bits of color of all the tiny flowers.

The views were a bit dreary, but I was lucky enough that the clouds were high. It sprinkled on my only a little bit the first half, and soon spots of sunshine were able to break through. I paused at the radio tower, but was eager to see the peaks of Dun da Ghaoithe once more peek out around the bend.

Two people passed me the whole day. It was just the mountain and me.

Skywalker?

It was amazing as I made it to the second radio tower that the roads behind me, if I turned to look at them, seemed to end at the sky, as if you'd walk off the edge of them.

View down from the lunch spot.

Then, the real hillwalking began. I mistakenly followed dear trails more often than I'd like to admit. They knew how to get up the quickest though. At one point I was almost ascending a rock face, but when I came (well, really rolled on to) the top, I almost slipped down the other side of a very steep hill into the next valley. After a moment to catch my breath in the soft moss, the sky opened up around me and I could see 360 degrees around me. I realized I'd perched where a bird of prey usually did by some interesting droppings, but I couldn't blame it for the view.

I finished the climb to the first cairn steadily, calculating my climb amongst the interesting and misleading boulders. The path between the tall cairn and the sudden drop into the valley was a bit unnerving, and I was very keen to put just one foot in front of the other without looking around.

The path between the cairn and the sheer drop into the valley.

The wind suddenly kicked up as I descended the dip between the two points of the mountain. I began to understand why they called it "the fork of the two winds." I had to put my jacket on and put my bandana around my ears, and then finally put my hood up enough to keep from getting a major headache.

The final hill to ascend to the top. Notice the scree.

The wind made the approaching scree climb ahead of me look very precarious. There was another sudden drop if I were to slip or be tripped up by a sudden gust. *Gulp!* But the jagged pieces of rock were surprisingly sturdy and ages of rain had formed gentle stairs up the face. Slowly, and with sure step, I climbed the last major hill between me and the very top (still making sure to give plenty of girth between me and the edge).

Scree steps...?

And then finally, I was there! The wind came rushing from the Atlantic and Ben More to welcome me with such force, that after a look around the summit, I took shelter on the leeward side of the cairn for some rest. The views were spectacular, stretching over to the mainland and almost to Skye and Iona. It was everything I'd hoped and more.

The path finally taken.

Look at the plants!....Oh, and there's puffins too: A daytrip to Lunga and Staffa

Puffins! They were quite calm and fine with us getting quite close to them. I was within four feet of this group and there were clouds of them just off to the left of the picture. They nest in little rabbit holes along the cliffs. The pink-flowered plant  in the foreground is a species of thrift, Armeria maritima.

My first order of business after finishing exams was to get out of Edinburgh! My friend Camilla told me about the puffins on the islands off the coast of the Isle of Mull, so I thought that would be an interesting vacation. I was on the train out of Edinburgh the Friday evening after the exam.

Wild Primula vulgaris with a hint of morning rain

growing out of the grass on Lunga.

Saturday morning was an early start, getting my tickets at the office at 7 a.m. and then running to get some snacks before the ferry left for Mull because we'd be out all day. The weather was grey, but the clouds were high, so the visibility was okay. The tour left from Tobermory, so it was a bus ride before we actually got to the tour boat, but the bus trip along the east coast of Mull was really beautiful and I got to see a flock of ADORABLE black and white baby lambs (*melt*).

The hour and fifteen minute trip out was a bit uneventful because of the weather, but we did see a white-tailed eagle and a group of harbor and common seals.

Our first stop was to Lunga, one of the Treshnish Islands off the west coast of Mull. It is home to one of the largest puffin colonies, as well as a host of other seabirds, such as the guillemot, razorbill, and shag. The tour let us off there for two hours and I was able to hike along the cliffs, see the heart rock (pictured below), and hike over the tallest part of the island and across the entire length. It was pretty precarious getting back on to the boat though. The tide was the lowest of the year and we were scrambling over some slippery, algae-covered boulders. Adventures!

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Hundreds, if not thousands, of guillemots gathered on the Heart Rock on Lunga. The noise was astounding. Never had I seen so many birds in one place in my life! The puffins are nesting on the cliffs just out of the left of the picture.

Our last stop on the trip was to the famous Staffa, home to Fingal's Cave (pictured below). It was incredible to see the unique geological feature featuring tetragonal, pentagonal, and hexagonal rock columns formed by the quick cooling of lava about 56-66 mya (well, except for the Giant's Causeway in Northern Ireland), as well as the really neat natural rock gardens at the top, starring several species from the extreme Caryophyllales and lichens of all kinds and colors.

It was time to head back after an hour there, though. The boat trip back was full of spitting rain and chilly winds, so I hung out inside.

The mouth of Fingal's Cave as we came around the south of Staffa.

You can see the people on the bottom right for scale.

I finally got a place at the comfortable Craignure Bunkhouse (which I highly recommend!) in Craignure for the night so I'd be ready for my hike up Dun da Ghaoithe the next day. Whew! What a day!