Although I was once an avid gardener, having torn out all the front lawn and strip along the road, tilling it all deep and planting excessively lush perennial, biennial, annual extravaganzas with huge blotches of color (none of that nice tidy flat of marigolds planted in a row for me crap), I've become more appreciative of natural deserts and their blooming cycles. In the sagebrush steppe the springs are stunning. My private driveway (1.5 miles) is carpeted on either side by naturally occurring "pinks", a dimorphous member of the dianthus (carnation) famility in pink and white. And the foothills are covered with sulphur-colored lupine native to only that part of the world. Sagitatta baslamoriza blooms profusely for about a month, mixed with globe mallow and on the high desert mountain ridges you have to be careful not to step on all of the bitteroot -- a wild flower that "just shows up" as if it is lying on the soil less rock (no leaves until after the bloom fades). Then the western scourge of cheet grass covers the foothills and low mountains with a light mauve color as its seed heads bloom and mature. Nasty plant, but pretty. The sagebrush finally takes over with new gray/green leaves and nothing much else happens until late August when brilliant green clumps of match week explode into screaming yellow blossoms that capture the alpen glow very well after sunset -- the sunlight hits overhead clouds and reflects upon the landscape after the sun has gone down.
But my favorite deserts are the Sonoran and Chihuahuan deserts. Ocotillo, a plant that otherwise looks like a loose clump of tall dead spine-covered branches is really very stunning. So much so that it's a common feature in many Las Vegas front yards as a architectural plant. It blooms early spring after heavy rains putting out miniature green leaves and scarlet blossoms, usually smaller than the spines. And to get a real sense of how beautiful the Sonoran desert and surrounding desert land is you really need a subscription to Arizona Highways, because the Painted Desert only come to life in a big way every 5 to 7 years. Therefore, most people miss it. And the Chihuahuan desert is remarkable for the giant varieties of opuntia cactus (and a few Organ Pipe-related cactus) that tower several meters from weathered and scarred trunks.
And when it comes to Texas, the world really needs to give a serious thank you to Lady Bird Johnson who created the Texas Wildflower Conservancy that spawned the careful appreciation of even the most dull red necked Texan about the wildflower movement making certain that all the highways and disturbed byways of Texas were reseeded with native Texas wild flowers, especially Bluebonnets (a variety of lupine) that distracts everyone's attention in mid spring throughout most of the hill country and as far west as Big Bend. It's definitely worth a flight to Austin or San Antonio around the end of March just to rent a car and glide along the wide Texas highways outside of the cities. Hell, even the sides of the freeways are spectacular during the right three or four weeks of spring. Sadly, the flash of color last only about a month, then Texas returns to . . . well, Texas.
AquaEyes11010: You were right on. It seems we're the proud owners of one of the biggest examples of Epiphyllum Ackermanii that has absolutely no rot or disease and hangs from our fifth floor balcony to our fourth floor terrace in the "gay" l'eixample neighborhood of Barçelona. Tourists stop across the street for at least three weeks and take photos of it. According to the California Cactus Club lady I met at the somewhat disappointing botanical garden here in Buenos Aires yesterday, it's probably a remnant of the original hybrid because we have no problems with it (no fungus, pests, or sun-scarring). Even more interesting is that our particular cactus is somewhat famous. She has seen it as well as scores of other "cactus freaks" who travel the world in groups just to look at odd and interesting cactus hybrids, all of which started originally in the Americas. She claims that the newer Epiphyllum hybrids that come in every color except blue tend to require a lot of attention and are prone to root rot. Still, I would like to get my hands on a copper-colored variety. Apparantly a north east exposure without too much sun is perfect for it. And to think we never water or otherwise fuss with the damn thing. It also blooms a second time in September, but only pops out 30 or 40 blossoms.
