Every year, as Halloween approaches, I recall my visit to Professor Mordant’s garden on the forbidden island of Desire. I call it forbidden because it was rumored to be an eerie, inhospitable place—a volcanic outcropping devoid of vegetation. Nothing like the mainland resort where I and other garden writers had been sunning ourselves in style.
What do tequila, green roofs, Guatemala and lawn removal have in common? They’re among the subjects of questions people have emailed me since Designing with Succulents was released. I recently added a Q&A page to my website. You’re invited to see if your own question is here, or just enjoy the others.
As a child growing up in Southern CA, I spent golden summer afternoons climbing avocado trees; furnishing a fortress walled with living bamboo; and lazing in a lawn glider as sprinklers splashed its plastic cover and library books ushered me to OZ.
One of the challenges of being a professional writer is to think metaphorically—to describe an item in terms of something else, so that readers make an association that clarifies, enlightens and perhaps also entertains. Metaphorical thinking can be learned and is a great memory aid. Food metaphors often occur to me when describing plants.
The annual cactus and succulent show at the Los Angeles Arboretum is the largest in the world. It’s a 2-hour drive for me, but I wouldn’t miss it. When I see a plant I’ve never seen before or a perfect specimen of something I’m familiar with, I go slack-jawed and stare. And this year there were dozens.