I had arrived early to a client meeting and decided to treat myself to a quick visit to a nearby plant nursery. Just days before, fresh blooms in my neighbor’s garden had caught my eye, and I made a mental note to pick up something new and colorful for my my front yard. I have admired my neighbor’s landscaping for many years. Sometimes on walks with my little dog, I examine their sprawling display of succulents, jasmine and roses, and I look for any faltering or dying plants - spotting one brown stem or leaf quells my envy of their obvious success.
At the lawn and garden section of the big hardware store, I feel the pull of sunbathed potential begging me to come closer. I stroll through the nursery and a quiet calm comes over me as I dream of the garden I wish to create. I look for sales on wind chimes and contemplate purchasing a decorative frog.
My little yard has been a place of experimentation for the 24 years I have lived in the same location in Southern California. About ten years ago I started researching and obsessing over xeriscaping, viewed hundreds of rock garden images, and made a plan to rip out the unhealthy grass in our little space in front of our duplex. To compensate for the minimal efforts of our building gardner, I have taken it upon myself to nurture the small area that it is, sometimes with success, and other times with utter failure.
With at least half of the year bone dry, and my determination to a) not waste precious water and b) not waste precious hours sweating over inappropriate, expensive foliage, I replaced the tiny but ugly lawn with an economical ground cover of decomposed granite and stepping stones, added rocks of varying sizes, and groupings of mostly easy care potted plants, purple grass suited for the zone we live in, which, if I have it right, is hardiness zone 10 or 11 for the Los Angeles area. This basically leaves me with options in any cactus variety, requiring slightly more care than a rock.
As I wandered through the nursery that day, I decided on a plant commonly (and appropriately) known as Rock Purslane, the dazzling and delicate fuchsia flowers on long but sturdy stems like arms of a ballerina, reaching toward me in the gentle mid morning breeze. I read the tag, which said it was drought tolerant when established. With its easy care and pop of color, this was clearly the plant for me.
I bought just the one to start with and nudged it onto the floor below the passenger seat of my car. I knew I would be parked in the sun for at least an hour while I was at my meeting, but I would go straight home after and find just the right spot for my new baby.
A new plant is like new hope. Anything is possible. But there are questions. Will it thrive? Will the generic description on the label turn out to be true in real life conditions? Will I inadvertently overwater it in the early days of new plant excitement? Will I not water it enough? As with any new life I bring into my garden, after I find just the right place for it, I keep watch in the first couple of weeks, and each time I pass by, I send my new friend mental energy of good luck and well wishes.
The first week in, there was so much to admire about my new plant. It added just the right amount of color I was looking for and was perfectly integrated, like it had been there for years. My watering instincts seemed correct. After this first week of gentle initiation, I decided it was time to replant into a slightly bigger container. I already had potting soil, which although had been sitting outdoors, was tightly closed and had not been affected by the recent (much needed) rain.
A few days later, I noticed some of the flowers were gone. I had read that the flowers on rock purslane die quickly but also bloom regularly, so I wasn’t too worried. A few more days later though, more flowers disappeared. The skinny, long, now bare stems reached upward, alone and tall toward the summer sky. The large buttery soft leaves at the base of the plant looked healthy - none were yellowing or shriveled, or eaten by any creatures.
During these days of renewed uncertainty of my gardening abilities, I took a stroll over to my neighbor’s garden to check how their rock purslane was doing. Maybe it was the June gloom we were having right on schedule that caused this purge of fuchsia joy of all rock purslane in our area, I tried to convince myself. As I walked closer though, I could see that my imagined world was not true, my neighbor’s rock purslane was as prolific as every, the paper thin purple flowers swaying in unison, laughing at me as I sneered at their fortitude.
The sudden ill health of my new friend had me feeling defeated and worried. Like caring for a child with a cold, or a pet with a sudden limp, my heart was heavy that something was wrong. The weight of personal failure crept into my psyche, that I was responsible for this turn of events and must find a solution.
My garden is gradually exposed to morning sun and shades over by mid to late day, and I thought maybe the poor dear was just not getting enough sunlight. I searched the internet for comments but nothing I read stood out definitively as a problem or a solution. In fact, the consensus was clear that this is an extremely easy plant to care for, leaving me with a deep feeling of inadequacy. After careful review, I relocated the little darling to a spot under my front window on the concrete landing, where the first bright light appears, and where hopefully little rock purslane would persevere. A couple of days later, I did observe new pink buds, tightly curled, ready to awaken, which gave me enormous hope. I finger snipped away the tiny dead stems which held at their ends drooping, brown, deceased baby buds which had never had an opportunity to present themselves. The poor things.
If my experimental gardening has taught me anything about life, I have learned to be observant, to persist, to not give up hope, to not be afraid of trying different solution, and ultimately, to learn from all efforts whether they are a success or not.
I await the next development from little rock purslane and will greet her with love as we learn about our new relationship together.