Air Layering Fiddleleaf Fig

Early in September we decided to tackle the fiddleleaf fig that was touching the 15 ft ceiling in number 1 greenhouse. It took both of us to drag the monster outside where it got a much needed shower before surgery (there is a faint omnipresent haze of dust in the air here, even on the stillest of days--hence the shower). Aly and I made about 10 layers, each about three feet long, not counting a number of small cuttings we took. And there's the advantage to airlayering a tropical that makes cuttings easily--a much bigger plant.

We began by girdling the limb we were going to layer. A small box cutter with a new blade makes this the easiest part of the procedure. I made two cuts that sliced through the bark and cambium about an inch apart completely encircling the stem. I can then draw the blade from upper cut to lower cut without danger of overshooting and leaving a ragged edge or flap.

It took several days of soaking to get the peat hydrated--New Mexico. We firmed a handful of very wet peat completely around the cut--this is where two sets of hands are useful. It's not easy holding onto the stem, while keeping the peat in place until it's securely wrapped.

There are a number of commercial gadgets out there to accomplish this part, but foil has always worked fine for me. In Florida, the land of perpetual trickling sweat, foil was enough. Here in New Mexico, keeping the peat wet until roots emerge is tricky; I used a layer of plastic wrap, enough to cover the peat with a lot of overlap, with the ends twisted tightly around the stem.

The foil is wrapped over that, again tightly squeezing the ends shut to seal in moisture. I tied both ends snugly with twine just to be safe. Then we dragged the monster back inside.

Fast forward to mid-November. Roots have developed nicely, and none too soon; despite two layers of protection, the peat is drying out.

We've just finished potting up all the layers that we made in September. Although houseplants are not really our thing, we'll sell these next season when Mountain Gardens opens. For someone who considers herself an outside gardener, I seem to have acquired a lot of houseplants in sore need of division or cutting back.

Speaking of which--the monster was unfazed by our surgery. Maybe this time we'll use two layers of plastic.

What's Still Green in the November Garden???

It's supposed to get cold again this weekend, more wind. While the days warm up, our nights are dipping below freezing, ice in the morning on the birdbath. The coneflowers are done, the hyssops brown stalks, the gailliardia a crisp haze of seed fluff. The garden's winding down and winter's on the way. It's a good time to poke around out there and make some notes.

Lamb's ear

Santolina

Dianthus

I like to see what still has a nice green presence despite the freezes--like the very ordinary lamb's ear, soft and silvery. The grey santolina looks very nice, too. The dianthus has flowered until the very second I took the photo (a carnation is still putting out buds). So is the white tufted evening primrose, a native that blooms nonstop. A pattern seems to be emerging--these  plants all have silver grey foliage.

Still looking good, and yes, silver, are the artemesia's--wormwood, Powis Castle. Horehound is everywhere in the mountains, one of the medicinal herbs brought in by the earliest Spanish settler's and escaped. Kept trimmed up, it's a nice filler, and useful if you're an herbalist.

The sages are wonderful choices for the mountains, tough, fully winter hardy, delicious. The varigated form shown is not quite as reliable as salvia off.', but its pink and silver make any companions stand out. I haven't found anything it doesn't look better next to.

These silvery plants are among the best choices for up here, tough, drought tolerant in this arid climate, and yes, lovely far into the end of the garden season.

Horehound & yarrow

Some nice, bright greens that still look fresh are heuchera, another native, salvia nemerosa, the iceplants and sedums, evergreen germander, the yarrows. One of the yarrows still sends up an occasional burst of pink.

I'm taking my notes, looking for holes of course, and areas that need more (or less) silver. It's still a raw, new garden, the trees and shrubs too small to have any significant impact, so the herbaceous perennials provide form, texture, color. Eventually there will be windbreak trees, walls for shelter. (I don't understand why our winds don't have some romantic name like the Santa Ana's, or sirocco, or mistral--a lovely spanish word for unrelenting, pitiless, maybe despiadado. "The despiadado's have returned--I shall go mad.") But the wind has been quite mild so far this fall, and I'm my prosaically sane self.

The native geraniums are filling in nicely under a tall juniper, their leaves coloring up a bit, ditto the plumbago with a few bits of blue petal left. Colder weather coming, hope it looks this nice next week.

Varigated sage

White tufted evening primrose (dianthus & artemesia on left)

Heuchera & salvia

Germander

Yellow iceplant