Fuchsias. First of all, notice the spelling. Fuch-See-Ya. Even though it’s pronounced Fyusha. One of the most frequently misspelled words in the English language.
Second, nod to Aussie blogger extraordinaire, Faux Fuchsia. I appreciate her consistent authenticity and her authentic consistency.
Third, and the project for today, think about planting the actual plant. Oh, wait, pause for a lovely moment to admire their grace. The anthropomorphic silhouette.
I’m looking to refurbish the corner below, its inhabitants long since withered or repatriated to more hospitable climes. Ms. Bougainvillea needed more sun than I’ve got in this corner, off to my sister. Mr. Delphinium (tripartite leaves peeking out below purple basil in the lower right hand pot) found a happy home with my stepmother.
For the moment, I’ve stuck my Auspicious Pinwheel in a container of expiring violas, next to some orange kalanchoe, and called it a day. Not the best showing.
And the big pot sits sad and lonely.
The bad news is fuchsias spawn clubs, like roses and orchids. The by-laws, instructions, and language of species clubs seem designed to frighten. Abandon Hope, All Ye Who Pinkly Enter Here! But keep your chin up, and do a little research, you’ll find as usual that plants aren’t all or nothing.
Get a couple of things right with plants, you can get a lot of things wrong.
The good news is, since I’m planting in a container, and in a climate pretty close to the preferred habitat,
“Fuchsias are happiest with temperatures between 55-80°F, though there are some heat-tolerant cultivars that will keep their blooms up to 90°F. Fuchsias thrive in humidity, so if you live in a dry climate, you may have to mist your fuchsias to keep them sufficiently moist.”
I get to ignore 90% of the admonitions found on sites like this one. I can return to admiring the previously remarked upon grace.
On to planting.
I have the pot and my gloves (I love these, all garish and whatnot). I understand potting soil (advanced level, that). I did just break my trowel the other day and am tempted by this fancy copper one, but I’ll probably default to the basic.
However, purchasing an actual fuchsia turns out to be a little complicated Did you know about fuchsia gall mites? Me neither. A nerdy gardening moment.
Mites can be addressed with neem oil, the only pest control (besides my fingers) I use. Still, my local nurseries are having trouble with their supply chain. I try to avoid the big box stores, and their systemic pesticides. Who wants to invite a toxic plant to their backyard, like a wicked ballet dancer, razors in her shoes? And it’s late to order online. My fuchsia may remain imaginary for a while.
But I want it to be purple. Feng shui says so, (the pots sit in my “wealth” corner) and these agree.
I admit, part of my interest is driven by the California drought. I can water a container with the shower warm-up bucket. One makes do for beauty.
Back to admiring grace.
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