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Favorite Fruit Trees: Apples, Pluots and Pears, Oh My!

Tom
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20
Favorite Fruit Trees: Apples, Pluots and Pears, Oh My!

One of my biggest joys is growing fruit trees. Their roots nurture my roots; their growth heartens my growth; and their bounty is shared bounty. They are part of me and part of the farm, and someday part of someone else’s joy.

I’d like to share my thoughts on the best fruit trees to grow in the Puget Sound region. If you’re thinking of planting and growing a fruit tree, do a little research regarding what you want to grow, and its nature and adaptability in your own backyard. A healthy, productive orchard starts with selecting the best trees for your land and climate. My message? Choose wisely, grasshopper.

For example, I have several figs trees that have let me know they’re not happy here, begrudgingly divvying up one fig per branch. Their message, “We prefer the heat units of California!” In addition, some apple trees renown for vigor and fruit production in other areas sprout contempt, not fruit, in the maritime Northwest, and again prefer a warmer, drier place to set up roots. And then there are apricot trees with a death wish built in when planted west of the Cascades. And don’t get me started on peach trees (oops, too late). I now grow all of my peach trees in the protected and drier conditions of my high tunnel hoop house for more fruitful conditions, with the exception of the Nanaimo peach, a worthy peach-leaf-curl-resistant orchard tree that can take our rainy Northwest fall and winters and still set fruit in the spring.

Before I wax on about my favorite fruit trees, let me say this is by no means a comprehensive list. Think of these exalted trees like you would an Olympic medalist. At one specific time, season or year, these results were the best for my efforts in the Puget Sound area. Next year, the winners’ names may all be different. And because I’m always trying new varieties, it’s likely you’ll see some changeups and new stars in the years to come. So for now, for 2019, these are worthy orchard contenders sporting vigor, fruitfulness, good health and habit.

Orchard Location Vashon Island, Washington :: Weather Profile

Very Good Apples

On my little island in Puget Sound, these are my favorite apple trees for 2019. And to be fair, I also love Spitzenburg, York, Karmijn de Sonnaville, and Jonagold apples, but I had serious snow and vole damage so no fruit this year. Also, I’ve recently planted some new varieties showing a lot of promise: Cosmic Crisp, Palouse, Golden Russet, Ambrosia, and Arkansas Black.

Belle de Boskoop

belle de boskoop apple
Belle de Boskoop never disappoints.

Belle de Boskoop apple: I would have planted this tree merely for its name (pronounced Bell-da-boss-k0e), but lucky for me it’s an all-around great apple with lots of personality. Wonderfully tart, the flavor is unique as if you spritzed lemon juice on it. Belle de Boskoop bakes and cooks well, and is perfect for chunky applesauce, sturdy pies, bubbling crisps, and juicy cobblers. At first, the tree produced fruit biennially, that is bumper crops one year and little to no fruit the following year; but I found if I thinned fruit in spring, I’d have a good crop of apples every year. I’ve nicknamed this apple, “Old Reliable.” My tree is a spreader, growing wider than taller.

Beni Shogun Fuji

Beni Shogun Fuji Apple

Beni Shogun Fuji apple, one of my favorite eating apples, is sweet as can be. Because Fuji needs a long growing season, and I live west of the Cascades where long hot summers rarely prevail, I was in search of a more adaptable sport of Fuji that was better suited for cooler climates. I found Beni Shogun Fuji, and I’m happy to report old Beni is a champ, weathering our cool growing season admirably and ripening about a month earlier than the standard fuji apple. The apples are glowing red and firm as an unripe pear. A few weeks in the fridge and they mellow into juicy little sugar bombs.

Bramley’s Seedling

Bramley’s Seedling apple is hands down one of my favorite baking apples. Such a very heavy producer, Bramley’s Seedling usually requires support stakes to keep the overloaded limbs from breaking. Apples are big, firm, crisp and flavorful–spirited for sure, and perfect for cooking or eating fresh though on the uber-tart side when first picked. My tree has proven to be a biennial producer, but again, if I thin the apples the tree becomes more of an annual producer. Bramley’s Seedling is said to be Great Britain’s favorite cooking apple.

Goldrush

Goldrush apple: disease resistance, great taste and excellent storing capability

Goldrush, the best storage apple in my orchard, remains firm and sweet up until spring, and that’s on my unheated enclosed back porch. According to researchers, “The fruit is characterized by a complex, rich spicy flavor with a high degree of acidity and sweetness. Acidity moderates in cold storage, resulting in exceptional overall quality after two to three months. The apple retains its complex sprightly flavor and crisp, firm texture for at least 7 months at 1 C. The cultivar has been rated consistently as the highest quality apple after storage of all selections or cultivars tested at Purdue University.” Coddling moth and apple maggot tend to ignore it, preferring red-toned apples.

Hudson’s Golden Gem

Hudson’s Golden Gem originally hails from Oregon, a chance discovery in 1931. Purported to be the largest russeted apple, the fruit is everything an apple should be: crunchy, juicy, sweet, and satisfying. The disease-resistant tree is vigorous, and insects seem to stay away from this curry-colored beauty. Because the fruit is so large, I definitely thin the apples on this tree to keep branches from breaking. Hudson’s Gem is one of my favorite eating-fresh apples, reminding me of a crunchy form of Juicy Fruit gum.

Melrose

Melrose apples wonderfully flavored and all purpose

Melrose apple: I planted Melrose apple tree six years ago, and it’s already one of my favorite apples. Dripping with juice and bright flavor, the crisp apples grow large and are perfect for fresh eating and baking. Introduced in 1944 from Ohio State University (and now Ohio’s official state apple), Melrose won kudos for exceptional flavor, but never took off commercially as consumers preferred prettier apples. Big mistake. I don’t spray any pesticides on any of my apple trees, and surprisingly Melrose suffers minimal damage by coddling moths and apple maggots. This is a really great apple (a cross between the Red Delicious and Jonathan), which deserves to be more widely available. Plant one, you won’t regret it.

melrose apple sliced
Melrose great in lunchboxes, great in pies!

Choice Pears

Pears need a publicist, as they are always seem to play second fiddle to the apple. I’m here to spread the word; pears are complex cousins of the apple, saturated in sweet, nuanced juices, and fraught with all-purpose adaptability. Because orchardists and snackers should not live by Bartlett alone, I’ve listed some exceptional pears to capture your hearts and tastebuds, whether eating fresh, sweetening your salad, enhancing your cheese board or crowning your tart.

Arganche

agaranche pear

This dreamy little guy hails from Macedonia and ripens to pear perfection in July, which is quite early for a pear. A creamy texture, juicy body and pronounced sweetness make this pear a must-have for any orchard, though it’s tough to find a nursery source. I found mine at Raintree Nursery, but not sure they still stock it.

Aurora

Funny, I ate all of my Aurora pears before taking any snapshots. This watercolor captures a close resemblance to the Aurora pear.

Aurora: I love this pear, truly a standout. Cummins Nursery writes, “Exceptionally high quality–maybe the world’s best.  This is a dessert pear that has large, regular fruit.  Skin is bright yellow, lightly overlaid with a beautiful russet, frequently blushed.  Keeps well in storage until December.  Flesh is smooth, melting, and juicy, with a sweet aromatic flavor.  The tree is vigorous and spreading.  The only problem with Aurora is its susceptibility to fireblight.”

Bosc

Super firm on the tree, Bosc pears ripen in cold storage.

Bosc is an old reliable winter pear standard, never failing to produce crisp, sugar-laden dynamos for fresh eating or baking, and it’s rarely bothered by pests or diseases (at least in my orchard). Bosc pears also perform admirably in my favorite winter salad of wild greens, pears, blue cheese and candied walnuts. They’re picked firm in October and left to ripen slowly in the fridge, cold storage or chilly back porch.

Orcas

Orcas pears appear at harvest time like beefed-up bodybuilders ready to take the podium. Here’s what Green World nursery has to say about them, “Discovered on Orcas Island, Washington, this excellent, disease-resistant variety, Orcas Pear, produces good crops of very large and attractive, carmine blushed, yellow pears with smooth, sweet, buttery flesh. Excellent for fresh eating, canning and drying, Orcas Pear is very reliable and productive and ripens in early to mid-September. These beautiful and tasty Pears can weigh of 1 lb. each.” Not great keepers (like most summer pears) Orcas pears ripen quickly on and off the tree.

Ubileen

ubileen pear tree
Ubileen pear, star of the early harvest!

Ubileen pears are bright stars in the great pear constellation. Ripening in July (again, super early for a pear), Ubileen garners even more accolades for its flavor, texture, and disease resistance–a newfound favorite.

Pluots and Plums for the Epicure

Castleton Plum

Castleton plums pop onto the scene with gusto, brandishing fine flavor and multiple uses from fresh eating to baking to drying to exceptional jam-making. As a heavy producer, Castleton plum trees need branch support to avoid breakage. Most Italian prune plums ripen in late summer, but Castleton ripens almost a month earlier than most.

Flavor Grenade Pluot

flavor grenade pluot plum
flavor grenade pluots and flavor queen
Four Flavor Grenade pluots resting upon a sea of Flavor Queen pluots…

Funny name for sure, but the laughs stop there. Flavor Grenade, a firm, flavorful mix of crazy sweet and tart flavors, surprised me in many ways. First of all, I was suspect that anything with part apricot in its DNA would do well here in the Pacific Northwest. Well, Shazam, it did. Outstanding fruit quality characterizes this pluot, including off-the-charts storage capabilities. I picked from the tree during a five-week period starting in August. Three months later, I finished eating the remaining refrigerated pluots. This pluot (plum-apricot cross) is the standout fruit of the year in my orchard.

Flavor Queen Pluot

After picking the main crop, the fruit hangs evenly like ornaments on a Christmas tree.

Flavor Queen reins supreme as the most vigorous stone fruit tree in my orchard. Though a more modest producer of fruit, Flavor Queen makes up for the deficit by supplying well-spaced large pluots throughout the tree. I’m a big fan of its sweetness (18 brix) and slight apricot aftertaste. Oh, and it’s quite ornamental when in bloom.

Flavor Queen Pluot in Bloom
Buddy enjoying the view and light scent from the Flavor Queen pluot in bloom.

Mirabelle Plum

Mirabelle Plums

Mirabelle Plums are a perennial favorite of mine. Read all about them here from an earlier post of mine: Mirabelle Plum, Nature’s Little Gumdrop.

Fruit Nurseries

* denotes nurseries where I have purchased plant stock (and also been a happy customer).

Note: I have no paid affiliation with any of these nurseries.

Nursery Reviews and Searches

  • Garden Watch Dog | Great gardener feedback, a site providing customer reviews of recent purchases from online nurseries and other garden retailers.
  • Plant Scout | An amazingly helpful link because it allows you to search for a plant by its common or botanical name and share what other gardeners have to say about it. Even better, the search returns nursery sources for the plant, and reviews of the nursery.

Disappointing Results

Here’s a smattering of fruit trees on my poor-performer list; not keen to do much of anything in the orchard other than grow a little and act ornamental.

Apples

  • Ashmead’s Kernel: still waiting for this esteemed heirloom apple tree to produce a crop of decent apples.
  • Cameo: One of my favorite eating apples, but a non-performer in my orchard.
  • Chestnut Crabapple suffers from fireblight, will remove this winter.

Apricots

  • My warning to keep you from lost-cause-orchard heartbreak: don’t bother planting an apricot tree west of the Cascades (even Puget Gold). If an apricot tree is the Lucy of Peanuts fame, I am its Charlie Brown–always trusting for a better outcome, that well, never comes.
  • Not even Puget Gold has performed well, even the ones protected in my hoop house have struggled.

Peaches

  • I swear I’ve planted every peach leaf curl resistant variety available, and finally I must admit, peach trees are a real challenge better suited to warm, dry places. Here’s are my findings: Peach Tree Summation (Peach Leaf Curl Resistant Varieties)
  • Interspecific hybrid Peacotum, very unhappy and prone to disease both in the orchard and hoop house. I love this fruit so much that I planted five trees. None of them have thrived or produced fruit, so they are coming out this year.

Buddy and Tom: The Movie

Tom
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26
Buddy and Tom: The Movie

Me and bulldogs, what can I say. I’ve always loved the breed, even as a toddler. My mother shares stories of me sitting for hours with the neighbor’s bulldog Sister, playing, piling, and tugging on the copious folds and flaps of torso and mug on this very sweet and patient bully. Buddy would attest old habits die hard.

I’ve enjoyed the company of some stellar pooches–all rescues, all adorable, all loving, and always underfoot. From Maggie to Gracie to Boz and now Buddy, bulldogs have always held a place in my heart; filling it regularly with laughter, love and companionship.

My friend Julie Sotomura of Furry Friend Films creates films as loving keepsakes, memorializing people and their pets, or more like, pets and their people. Buddy and I were honored that Julie asked us to be the subjects of her latest endeavor. Buddy tells me it’s his favorite film, next Lady and the Tramp, Turner and Hooch, and Lassie Come Home.

Buddy and Tom: The Movie

click image to start video

Julie certainly has a heartfelt and powerful talent here. I want to help her get the word out by sharing some of her films, so seamlessly created to honor the four-legged gifts in our lives. Check out her website at www.FurryFriendFilms.com.

Julie also made this wonderful film about Vashon Island Pet Protectors (VIPP) for their annual fundraiser. Grab the tissues.

Click image to start video

Peach Upside-Down Cake: Potluck Perfect

Tom
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14
Peach Upside-Down Cake: Potluck Perfect

If Vashon ever fancied a name-change, I would suggest Potluck Island, for we are a friendly folk who mark the march of time and life through communal sharing, dining, and covered dishes. We pride ourselves on bringing more to the table than chips and dip.

Peach upside-down cake has turned summer of potlucks right side up for this islander. Don’t get me wrong. I love pie, but it’s a four-hour construction project, whereas peach upside-down cake shines as an easy-to-make dessert basted in caramel, crowned with sautéed fruit, and chockablock with flavor and delectable texture. In just over an hour, a star is born.

peach upside down cake now topped with peach
Embracing the goo…

The recipe also offers an added bonus of versatility; you can use any dense or stone fruit you want from apples, to quince to pears, apricots, nectarines and plums. As a seasonal heavy lifter, upside-down cake can take on just about any fruit, any time of year.

If you’ve never made an upside-down cake, here’s what to expect. You basically sauté fruit in a caramel bath, then top it with a creamy-thick cake batter, which is baked into a moist mattress of crumb saddling a motherlode of fruity madness. (Do I have you, yet?) You let it cool for 15 minutes, then put a plate over the baking dish or pan, and flip it carefully. The upside-down cake is born on the platter beneath and the angels will precede to sing, and you will begin to weep. Yep, that good. Serve with whipped cream, remain seated.

I ♥ peaches!

Here’s the recipe.

Peach Upside Down Cake

Print recipe

Ingredients

  • FRUIT
  • 3-4 peaches
  • 1/2 cup sugar
  • 1/4 cup butter
  • BATTER
  • 1/2 cup butter
  • 3/4 cups sugar
  • 2 eggs
  • 1 teaspoon almond extract (or vanilla)
  • 1 1/2 cup flour
  • 1 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
  • 1/2 cup milk

Directions

Fruit
Step 1
Preheat oven to 350°F. In 10" cast iron or ovenproof pan add 1/2 cup of sugar and 1/4 cup of butter. Heat, melt and mix to create a slurry.
Step 2
Cut thick slices of peaches and arrange atop sugar/butter mixture in pan. No need to peel.
Batter
Step 3
In separate bowl, mix sugar and butter until fluffy. And room temperature eggs one at a time. Mix until light and pale yellow, about a minute.
Step 4
In a separate bowl, mix dry ingredients: flour, salt, and baking powder. Add to liquid mixture until fully incorporated. Add milk slowly to create a thick batter. Add almond extract. Mix until combined.
Assembly
Step 5
Pour batter over peaches, and gently smooth from middle to sides. Batter will even out during baking. Bake for about 45 minutes or until top is golden. Remove from oven.
Step 6
Let pan cool for 15 mins. Place a larger plate over the pan. Hold plate firmly with pan and flip away from you as gently as possibly. The cake will slide down and rest on the plate. Remove the pan. Cool and serve with whipped cream.
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NWSAM: Buddy’s Hands-on Experience

Tom
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16
NWSAM: Buddy’s Hands-on Experience

Buddy, my bulldog is a lot of things: my top dog, my moment-to-moment muse, my unwitting comic, and my cherished companion; but lately Mr. Buddy has assumed a new role, that of a model, specifically a massage model. Yep, my favorite fur-ball has secured the best gig a quadruped could be fortunate enough to enjoy on Vashon Island, that of a massage dog at the Northwest School of Animal Massage (NWSAM). In essence, Buddy has a dedicated team of students learning the art and practice of animal massage on him–a hands-on experience the likes of which Buddy has only dreamed of.

bulldog Buddy at Northwest School of Animal Massage
Buddy, always a giver… (photos shown, credit: Wendy Dahl)

At first I was worried Buddy would suffer a little separation anxiety when I introduced him to the class and handed the leash over to the wonderful Lola Michelin, animal whisperer extraordinaire. Buddy instead had the look of a kid at Disneyland, the bulldog equivalent of let’s get this party started, oh yeah, and buh-bye Pops. As I turned to leave, Buddy was making new friends, ensconced in the attention, and reveling in each student’s unbridled adoration of the new big boy in class.

Buddy doing his best to impress Miss Lola.

Buddy did look back at me, and mustered an assuring I-got-this kind of nod. I knew he was in good hands, lots of good hands. After arriving home, the house seemed empty without him–grunts, slobbers, farts, snoring, and barks nowhere to be found or heard. Ironic that I was the one now with separation anxiety.

Buddy: Volunteer of the year!

When I returned to pick up Buddy, a student body of devotees shared some Buddy-love in tales and laughter and delight. Instead of being worn out, my little Master and Commander was fully charged and ready for playing, eating, walking, barking, and getting in my face. I think we play enough tug-o-war on his school days to lengthen my right arm.

Buddy, and his buddy Edward, enjoying some “bro-time” and a break.

A big thank you to the Lola and Wendy of NWSAM who love Buddy just as much as I do, and provide for his welfare and good health every time we visit. Buddy agrees, he’s got the best gig in town!

Splendor in the grass, as class goes outside…
Back at the ranch, Buddy extends his playtime and my arm.

Snapdragon Bakery: Easing Into Saturday

Tom
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22
Snapdragon Bakery: Easing Into Saturday

Saturday had finally arrived and my weekly pastry treat (be it sticky bun, scone, danish or croissant) from Snapdragon Bakery weighed heavily on my mind. It was a big decision as my self-imposed regimen of moderation had relegated sugary treats from the popular food category “staple” to the more rarified rank of “ration”–a wise course correction based on dicey blood sugar levels and sixty-some years of eating exactly what I wanted. (Old dog, new tricks.)

Snapdragon Bakery in V is for Vashon book
From V is for Vashon: painting, Pam Ingalls; and words: Tom Conway

Snapdragon Bakery & Cafe’s iconic stature is well-earned: butter reigns supreme; one scone easily serves a family of four; and the proprietors Adam and Megan (and crew) are loved like family. And besides, Buddy (house celeb that he is) has access to the garden patio for unapologetic begging, crumb scarfing, and endless butt rubs and head pats. What’s not to like?

Today sunlight floods the shop, and the front of the house in full squint-mode greets each faceless, backlit silhouette before them. Every may-I-help-you is followed by an oh-let-me-look. The pastry case buckles under the weight of croissants, muffins the size of a child’s head, cinnamon rolls chockablock with seasonal fruit, and mazurka bars hearty enough to sustain a hiker. Today’s special treat, sticky buns bejeweled with walnut crowns covered in a sugary-spiced goo, catches my eye and appetite. Lip-smacking ensues. I point to the yeasty motherlode and request a slather of butter on side. (Hey, no judgement, it’s a once-a-week thing.)

Snapdragon Sticky Buns
Well, hello there gorgeous!

With Buddy at my side, splayed on the floor, the kitchen crew chants, “Buddy!” and his lordship raises an eyebrow in acknowledgement before returning to his morning repose, of course now he’s spotlit by the sun. Next to him, a drowsy dad and timid toddler nod toward the pastry case with one eye on a slumbering bulldog. I ask the little guy if he’d like to say “hi” to Buddy, if okay with his dad. The little man’s countenance bespeaks a curious combination of intrigue and terror. He opts for a respectable compromise: waving out of reach. Buddy responds in kind with a well-placed snore and a minor spatial readjustment.

bulldog buddy splayed on the floor
Buddy’s signature move: the splay.

The gentleman behind me comments on Buddy’s wide berth (Buddy ignores him), and then smiles at the young lad, and turns to chat with his dad, asking the age of the little fellow. A very cats-in-the-cradle moment, the silver-haired elder waxes poetic about the virtues of raising his children, watching them grow up, and sharing new moments with his grandkids, even citing these years as the most special in his life. You could see by his smile he was reliving some sweet memories. Young pop was cordial, but the words seemed lost on him or a least attenuated by the underlying desire to be left alone in a quiet corner, with a quiet child, and a hot cup of coffee.

Megan: Buddy’s crush

My order arrives and lands on the counter, where it sits for the moment. I’ve learned leashes and steaming cups ne’er the twain should meet when connected to an English bulldog. After tying Buddy’s leash to the picnic table, I return to fetch my (make that our) goodies. Buddy knows the drill, and waits patiently for his cut of the loot. He watches intently, he drools intently, he barks intently. A treat is given, bad behavior rewarded. Witnesses to this regrettable display of caving in laugh not so much at Buddy, but at me. (Yeah, yeah, I’m a pushover in case you weren’t paying attention.)

Buddy with his eye on the prize…cue the drool!

Saturday morning wakes up slowly on Vashon Island, and one by one, the line grows, chatter fills the room, a work week is washed away, and sleepy heads ease into the day with friends and refreshments. It’s Saturday at Snapdragon Bakery & Cafe where pastries are loaded, the conversations light; where the friendships endure and a man and his dog are right at home.

Thanks for having coffee with Buddy and me!

Snapdragon Bakery is everyone's favorite, including Buddy the bulldog.
Buddy, refusing to leave…

Taylor’s Pink Perfection: Camellia or Lipstick Color?

Tom
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14
Taylor’s Pink Perfection: Camellia or Lipstick Color?

Nature doles out some amazing colors. When my Taylor’s Pink Perfection camellia began to bloom for the first time, I found its blush exuberant, unapologetic and very reminiscent of a hue I’d come across before: the lipstick color of my fourth grade teacher Miss Wells.

In my recollection, Miss Wells and Delta Burke are now the same person. When Miss Wells wanted your attention (read disciplinary action), she’d lean over your desk placing her well-manicured hand on your shoulder, and zero in, her lips to your ear, and politely, albeit sternly, in the most lilting of southern accents say, “May I please have a word with you, [insert child’s first and last name]?” Trouble was, she would have many words with the pupil and always win the argument.

Taylor's Pink Perfection Camellia flower
Taylor’s Pink Perfection Camellia

I had a theory that her weapons-grade perfume* was a numbing agent used to lull kids into a semi-lucid, obedient state, but that’s another story. Because she insisted on unflinching eye contact (her form of a Vulcan mind meld), I was forced to behold the brightest shade of pink lipstick known to man. And now that I’ve seen this camellia, I can say it’s also known to nature.

taylors pink perfection camellia times two

If you’d like to know more about my favorite florid flirt, I’ve posted information below:

Taylor’s Pink Perfection Camellia: My favorite cheeky spring time bloomer

Taylor’s Pink Perfection Camellia: Information from Squak Mt. Greenhouses & Nursery

Height:  10 feet

Spread:  8 feet

partial shade
full shade

Sunlight:     

Hardiness Zone:  7

Other Names:  x saluenensis

Description:

Lustrous evergreen foliage cover this upright shrub; masses of semi-double pink flowers bloom over a long period, beginning in late winter; provide rich, acidic, moist, well-drained soil

Ornamental Features

Taylor’s Perfection Camellia features showy shell pink round flowers with yellow eyes at the ends of the branches from late winter to early spring. It has dark green foliage. The glossy pointy leaves remain dark green throughout the winter. The fruit is not ornamentally significant.

Landscape Attributes

Taylor’s Perfection Camellia is a multi-stemmed evergreen shrub with an upright spreading habit of growth. Its average texture blends into the landscape, but can be balanced by one or two finer or coarser trees or shrubs for an effective composition.

This is a relatively low maintenance shrub, and should only be pruned after flowering to avoid removing any of the current season’s flowers. It has no significant negative characteristics.

Taylor’s Perfection Camellia is recommended for the following landscape applications;

  • Accent
  • Mass Planting
  • Hedges/Screening
  • General Garden Use
  • Container Planting

Planting & Growing

Taylor’s Perfection Camellia will grow to be about 10 feet tall at maturity, with a spread of 8 feet. It has a low canopy with a typical clearance of 1 foot from the ground, and is suitable for planting under power lines. It grows at a slow rate, and under ideal conditions can be expected to live for 40 years or more.

This shrub does best in partial shade to shade. It requires an evenly moist well-drained soil for optimal growth, but will die in standing water. It is particular about its soil conditions, with a strong preference for rich, acidic soils. It is somewhat tolerant of urban pollution, and will benefit from being planted in a relatively sheltered location. Consider applying a thick mulch around the root zone in both summer and winter to conserve soil moisture and protect it in exposed locations or colder microclimates. This particular variety is an interspecific hybrid.

Taylor’s Perfection Camellia makes a fine choice for the outdoor landscape, but it is also well-suited for use in outdoor pots and containers. Its large size and upright habit of growth lend it for use as a solitary accent, or in a composition surrounded by smaller plants around the base and those that spill over the edges. Note that when grown in a container, it may not perform exactly as indicated on the tag – this is to be expected. Also note that when growing plants in outdoor containers and baskets, they may require more frequent waterings than they would in the yard or garden.

*weapons-grade perfume, is the indelible reference originally coined by my friend Mark Hoben.

Editor’s note: I first posted this story years ago, and I thought it was time to revisit it with updated photos and information.

Spring Joy in a Daffodil’s Nod

Tom
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24
Spring Joy in a Daffodil’s Nod

Spring seemed to takes its own sweet time this year; arriving late, leaving early, hopscotching around the Pacific Northwest in quick visits tied to its own whims. I’ve made peace with winter, now that spring has unpacked and decided to stay. God bless the daffodil, the sunny little recruit trumpeting warmer days are ahead. It’s hope in flower form.

The original stand of wild daffodils (Narcissus pseudonarcissus) that I’ve come to split and spread around the farm. The more light provided, the more blooms realized.

After living in my house for close to fifteen years, and planting and splitting bulbs each fall, I’ve come to expect an eruption of garden surprises each spring. Much like an absent-minded squirrel, I usually forget where I bury the flower bulbs, but then spring steps in to joyfully remind me.

This year I’ll plant more bulbs on my circle drive’s island.

If you’ve had trouble growing flower bulbs in the past, consider the daffodil and related narcissus cousins. These bulbs are easily grown without much fuss or care, or interest from deer or voles. Daffodils naturalize beautifully, that is once you plant them, the bulbs multiply and establish flowering colonies requiring little care. In fact, I plant bulbs in my lawn to add interest to swaths of green. The only real secret is you have to let the leaves die back to the ground to recharge the bulb and blooms for next season.

VIDEO: How I Plant Bulbs Using a Drill and Auger

Early Spring Garden Tour

One of my garden paths, lined with Leucojum and emerging bluebells.
About three miles north of my farm on the east side of the island near Dilworth Point, this spectacular view screamed “spring” to me as I headed down the lane to visit my artist friend Pam Ingalls at her enviable perch of a studio. Cloud cover usually conceals her majesty.
Buddy’s look: “Dude, this rope toy isn’t going to pull itself?
See you next year cheerful harbingers of spring!

Vashon Snow: After the Storm(s)

Tom
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24
Vashon Snow: After the Storm(s)

Like much of the country this winter, the Pacific Northwest succumbed mightily to the whims of wild weather. Our February, the coldest on record, left islanders grousing about temperatures Midwesterners would scoff at. But for us, freezing weather is as much an anomaly as a Seattle corner without a coffee shop.

The mile-high meringue on our baked-Alaska winter came in the form of unprecedented snowfall, which led to school closures, fallen trees, compromised structures, and power outages. The good news is warmer weather is on its way next week, the daffodils and crocus are blooming, and I’ll get by with a little help (make that a lot of help) from my friends as I’m finally at an age and/or state where accepting help is fine with me (such an adult approach). Plans are in the works to dismantle and reconstruct the greenhouse for starters. I’ll keep you posted.

Hope is a snow-capped crocus.

So here’s to a spring without downed trees, flattened greenhouses or collapsed coops. And may these photos be dispatched as faded memories quickly making way for the promise of sunshine and soulful renewal.

What grows up, must come down. One of the century-old black locust trees dropped some large limbs, but missed my fountain.
About 140′ of chicken run netting came down, as well as coop side awnings.

The snow’s weight bent the steel supports in my greenhouse like pipe cleaners.
Much like having a beached whale carcass behind the barn…
While the branch hit the house, we (the insurance adjuster and I ) could not find any damage to the roof (for now). The lilac tree and camellia didn’t fare so well.
The fuzzy kiwi went from arbor vine to ground cover.

Oh a side note, snow storms and power outages can certainly bring us together, and on occasion yield a mighty-fine recipe. This hot buttered rum mix (and tasty elixir) was served to me one very chilly morning by my friend Margo, who received it from her 87-year old neighbor who had rescued Margo and son from their unheated cottage. That’s my kind of neighbor! And let me just say, this recipe makes you hope there’s a power outage.

Miss Margo and friend Tom opted for the the adult bourbon edition. Yes, substitutions allowed and encouraged. 😉

The snow has melted and we are free to move about the island to see old friends and meet new ones.

Things are getting back to normal, well, normal for Vashon. Here’s to warmer, sunnier days.

Vashon: At Home in a Snowglobe

Tom
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Vashon: At Home in a Snowglobe

Snow comes and goes in the Pacific Northwest, but it usually prevails at higher elevations, and leaves the shores of Puget Sound unfettered by the constraints of its icy grip. With Vashon so close to Cascade-Mountain ski slopes, we islanders usually travel to see the snow, not the other way around. But last week was the 100-year exception; the snow went coastal and never left, breaking a February snowfall record set in 1923.

There is no disputing the beauty ushered in by a fresh snowfall, but with each accumulating inch, I, like most Vashonites, standby for the imminent power outage caused by the whims of tall timber, feeble footholds, precarious powerlines, and heavy snow.

Tenuous terracotta : Keeping my fountain running so it won’t freeze and crack

With our local meteorologists hyperventilating on network news about Snowmageddon 2019 or Snowpocalypse Now, Puget Sounders took notice. In fact, most grocery store shelves were emptied in a 24-hour period. Produce sections had one offering: parsnips. Dairy refrigerators were denuded of everything but a few tubs of pineapple cottage cheese and some curiously-flavored coffee creamers. But with a giant jar of Jif, six cans of tuna, one box of milk bones, and a bag of bagels (the last one), I qualified for and breezed through the 15-item-or-less line, while my poor island pals followed an outer-aisle labyrinth to the promised land of frenetic checkers. Truth be told, I feel I may have missed a good party by not standing in that long line.

When the first flake arrived, I was safe, warm, showered and down-comforter ready, though the chill of procrastination had me shivering over my wimpy stash of firewood and my reluctance to procure more. And why was that; well it required splitting more.

I was not prepared. (Ya think?)

Right on time, a freezing air flow from British Columbia’s Fraser River Valley embraced our coastal moisture, and the snow event was on. A steady snowfall silenced the island; everyone was in for the night. Like a heavenly pillow fight, feathery flakes danced their way down to earth, dressing all surfaces in winter white. Only a few souls ventured out to prove their snow-driving prowess, and many of the island’s hills and ditches welcomed their foolhardiness with expected outcomes.

Within five hours of the first flake, the entire island was without power, about 10,000 folks. I know the exact time because my CPAP machine stopped and I was awakened by the need to breathe. (Gets me every time.) My bedroom was cold already as I don’t heat the upstairs, and Buddy wasn’t budging, wrapped as tight as a bulldog blanket burrito.

I layered up from the one-day-I’ll-fold-these clothes pile. Now about 3 a.m., I stumbled downstairs to my first mistake: I had failed to reset my furnace thermostat from its nighttime temp of 50 degrees to a higher temperature in case the power went out. My first order of business was to build a fire in my ancient and rarely-used wood stove. An hour later, the fire was roaring and my living room was enjoying a whopping two-degree rise to 52 degrees Fahrenheit (and that is why it’s rarely used). Candles were lit. Buddy trundled downstairs, seeking company and warmth, and found both on the sofa.

In the car: Thank goodness for knitwear, seat warmers, and phone chargers

Perhaps my favorite thing about snow is not only its ability to change the landscape, but its wizardry to change the human heart. Add a few flakes, and we lose years and jaded outlooks, and take a shining to childlike wonder. I walked around the house looking through the wavy window panes of my snowglobe within a snowglobe. Upstairs, downstairs, east, west, north and south, I gazed at views transformed into fairytale vistas.

My backyard winter wonderland

When Buddy finally ventured out, the snow reached his jowls, while his body remained below the surface like a lumbering submarine. He plowed through the white stuff , then stopped to zig, then zag, roll and bark. His “business trip” had taken to a snow cave under the hedge. His triumphant return to hearth and home was marked by ample treats, hugs, a towel-off, and a resumption of his napping duty.

My superhero neighbor Dan helping me dig out.

For the most part, I was stranded, but at home in my island snowglobe. Power crews worked feverishly to restore electricity to the island, and within twelve hours my center quadrant was being spoiled once again with heat, hot coffee, drawn baths, and WiFi.

Earlier in the week, not going anywhere…

The snow covered neighbors under the same blanket, but awakened us to our interdependency. We visited. We told stories. We offered to help. We checked on each other and marveled at the rarity and beauty of such a storm. Many intrepid islanders were out in their monster trucks, chainsaw ready to clear a blocked road.

Can you hear the songbirds?

For five days, I stayed home. My lane was impassable and I was uninterested in trying to find a reason to travel farther than my chicken coop or orchard. My job became knocking snow off of my greenhouse, and fruit trees. In the end some of my efforts paid off, some did not. My fruit trees were spared dramatic breakage, but my greenhouse collapsed, fencing failed, trees fell and the chicken yard ain’t what she used to be. Our big snow did some big damage, but I’ll see what insurance has to say about all this in the days to come, and then ponder my next move.

For now, it’s dark outside, my feet are warmed by the snoring bulldog lug atop them, and a full moon is slipping behind a cloud. To-do lists and chores can wait a little longer, perhaps until my boots dry out, and the sun shows its face, oh, and when I’m through toggling through some lovely photos of Snowmageddon 2019!

  • Buddy is not fond of this look (or me) at the moment.

Hand Pies: From the Bottom of My Flakey Heart

Tom
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13
Hand Pies: From the Bottom of My Flakey Heart

Few symbols capture my heart like the heart. There’s no gray area here, no mistaken intent. Whether rendered in a doodle, decal, cookie-cutter, pie plate or box of chocolates, a heart-shaped anything delivers the simple, eloquent, and unwavering message that you are loved, or at the very least, thought of most fondly.

While Valentine’s Day is all about delivering such heartfelt pronouncements in various ways, I rely heavily on my baking bent as a conveyance of my love. (Though I fear the ultimate measure would be my willingness to drive someone to the airport.) And sure, roses are nice, but hand pies bless your beloved with a batch of sweetness that lingers on the lips like a Valentine’s Day kiss. Here’s how I do it.

Hand-to-Heart Cherry Pocket Pies

  • 1 double-crust pie dough (store-bought or homemade)
  • 2 cups pie cherries (fresh or frozen)
  • 1½ tablespoons cornstarch
  • ½ cup sugar
  • 2 tablespoons melted butter
  • 1 pinch kosher salt (⅛-¼ teaspoon)
  • ¼ teaspoon almond extract (optional)

Dough Prep

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Divide chilled dough in half. Roll out each dough round to ⅛” thickness. Use a medium to large heart-shaped cookie cutter and cut out as many hearts as dough allows.

Combine leftover dough, reshape dough into a round and roll out again. Cut out remaining hearts. Divide the number of hearts in two; half will be the bottom crust and half will be the top crust.

Filling

Add cornstarch to cherries and mix; next add sugar, salt, extract and mix again. Pour melted butter over mixture and stir to coat cherries. (You can also use canned cherry pie filling.)

Plan B: A super simple and equally delicious way to make these hand pies is to simply use your favorite jam or preserves in place of the cherry pie filling. A dollop of fruit jam works just fine. And you can also substitute the cherries in the recipe for any other pie-appropriate fruit (e.g., berries, apples, peaches, rhubarb).

Assembly

Bottom dough: place a healthy dollop of cherry mixture in the middle of the heart. Leave edges bare.

Top dough: gently roll the top dough hearts to enlarge their surface area, allowing more coverage when placed over the cherries.

Cover the bottom dough heart and cherry mixture with a top heart cover. Gently press the edges together, crimp to seal.

Placed filled hearts on a parchment-lined baking sheet. (Love can get messy.)

Baking

Brush heart pies with milk and sprinkle white sugar on the top.

Forget about timed baking, and observe hearts every 15 minutes. Bake at 350 F until crusts brown, and cherries and syrup bubble. Remove and cool.

Hand pies are best if not sealed or wrapped in plastic, which softens the dough.

Heart to Heart: Be My Valentine

  • “Lovin’ Spoonful”
  • Some folks are like pies; crusty on the outside, gooey on the inside.
  • I love a good crust.
  • recipe for fresh apricots made into jam
  • You know how I feel about pie.
  • Sleeping Sweetheart
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