My husband of (give or take) 10 years is from a skiing family.  I am not from a skiing family.  It is kind of like the snow version of Romeo & Juliet, without the yelling, fighting and suicide at the end. But, because my husband is from a skiing family, his dream vacation was to be able to ski “Out West” where they have REAL mountains. Here in Ohio, we have mole hills that they try to pass off as mountains and in New York, they have mountains that forgot to take their Rockies steroids. So, here we are, crossing one off the bucket list, in Whitefish, MT so my husband can ski Big Mountain. Apparently people in Montana are as good at naming things as gardeners are.

But, while I do not ski (never will ski, not gonna ski, yes, I know it’s fun but still not gonna ski), we choose this place because there were still lots of things that I could do, being a non-skier.  So one of those things I did the other day was to buy a walking lift ticket all the way to the top of Big Mountain.

It is a breathtaking view. On a clear day, you can see for miles – though good luck getting a clear day around here for as often as it snows, but even without full visibility it is still a stunning view.

But, it seems these mountains  are haunted by spirits with tenacious determination and solemn beauty. Snow Ghosts, as the locals call them, come to haunt the slopes every year as the winter progresses.

Snow ghosts are alpine tundra trees that have built up a coating of snow over the course of months of wind, snow and freezing weather. When you think about how often the plants near us die when it reaches just below freezing, it is pretty amazing how these trees survive.  Not only are these trees covered in snow and ice for months at a time, but in that picture they are standing in TEN FEET, yes TEN FEET of snow. Yes, that means in the summer, the trees in those pictures look 10 feet taller.  This is the kind of snow I shiver and hide from but these trees deal and move on.  Talk about fortitude…

So how come these alpine trees can survive this kind of weather – buried under 10 of snow and temperatures of up to -40 below zero? Because Mother Nature is the WOMAN, that’s why.  First, evergreen trees are a tenacious lot thanks to their leaves. Area space allows for evaporation.  Evaporation is the enemy of plants in the freezing temperatures  as they have a hard time taking up water that is frozen in the ground. If you need a self comparison, think about how well your skin deals with the winter weather.  Yeah, it’s like that but without the Burt’s Bees lotion to help us to get through it.

This is actually the reason why most plants lose their leaves.  Those broad pretty leaves make for lovely shade in the summer and a sure case of tree eczema and dehydration in the winter if those leaves were to stick around.  So many just drop them.  Pine  trees though are the beauty queens of winter. They have thin, slender leaves (needles) that have less surface area, so less evaporation in the dry winter air.

They also have a waxy covering on their leaves that further helps prevent drying from evaporation.

Second, the cone shape of the tree and the dense nature of their leaves and branches helps it better withstand the weight of that fabulously stylish and cuddly cold snow coat.   The sturdy center trunk stands tall when branching trees would snap and crack under the weight.

Third, pine trees have less water in their leaves, which means that there is less ice crystals.  Ice crystals are what often kills a plant as they pop the cell walls and all the water leaks out.

So, while these ghosts don’t go “woo-woo”, drag chains and really scare anybody (except for occasional skiers who lose control of their skis), they are spirits we have to admire for their clever adaptations in the face of seemingly impossible environment.  And for the record, still not gonna ski – mainly because I am fairly certain I will run into one of these trees. And while they may be called ghosts, they are in fact very, very solid.

When I travel, I like to take note of the plant life around me. Not just because I am a gardener, but because it can be a good point of reference for the free wheeling traveler. For example, if I wake up from a drunken haze and peer up at a tree branch above me and see maple leaves, I know that I must have stumbled onto a plane that landed in a temperate region. If, on the other hand, if I am kidnapped by terrorists and when they take off my blindfold, I see bougainvillea vines draping the landscape, I will know that my kidnappers had the good taste to hold me in a tropical climate.

There is no better plant on the planet that better botanically represents being on vacation than the brightly hued bougainvillea. I have seen it used for everything from a shrub, a hedge, a wall covering, a pergola draping and as an unintentional camouflage for abandon buildings.

This plant is both versatile and resilient, making it perfect for regions with extreme climates, where heat is constant and in the course of a year, rainfall fluctuates between a glob of spit from a passing construction worker to monsoon. It is also just as happy to grow where monsoon is actually a season, not an occurrence as it is to grow on the fringes of the desert. But in areas where rainfall is consistently high, the plant will not flourish as well as it does in areas that have dry seasons.

But, much like a high school quarterback’s girlfriend, they are lovely to look at but painful to touch. The vines of the bougainvillea are spiked with fiendishly wicked hooked thorns. These thorns help it to climb up over competing plants, structures and slow moving vehicles. Like most tropical plants, it grows rapidly and can be a nuisance in its ideal environment.

While most people grow them for the brightly colored “flowers”, the bright colors are not flowers at all. They are bracts. The real flowers and the small white tubes that you can find hidden among the bracts.

One of the nice things about bougainvillea and what makes it so popular is that it is a year round bloomer. After blooming starts, the flowers (and bracts) will stick around for about 4 weeks and fade, and then will reappear a few weeks later to repeat the performance. As long as the plant receives some, even minimal amounts of water, it will continue in the cycle. If the plant finds itself in a severe drought situation, it will shed all of its leaves and regrow them when the water returns.

The bougainvillea is named for the French admiral Louis Antoine de Bougainville, who along with his on-ship, girlfriend smuggling botanist, “found” it in Brazil in 1768, in much the same way most Europeans “found” most things in the already populated Americas.

But, for as much as the bougainvillea represents the tropical world, the clever Dutch, the kings of horticultural miracles, are conspiring to develop a cold hardy bougainvillea. Which worries me a little bit. How the hell am I suppose to know generally where in the world I have been taken by kidnappers if these festive beauties could soon be grown anywhere in the world?

Caye Caulker is a small island off the coast of mainland Belize. It is considered to be a tourist destination, but is less tourist focused than its more famous sister town of San Pedro. Believe it or not, you have heard of San Pedro before. If you are a child of the eighties or just listed to any kind of pop music, you heard Madonna reminisce of San Pedro in her song La Isla Bonita. Caye Caulker is all that, but better.

There are no cars here, just bikes and golf carts. And because of this, the streets are not really streets. They are more of a general idea of how far apart the buildings should be built.

Flowers abound. They creep in to the nooks and crannies and conspire to rip apart the buildings because the structures are an affront to their scented sensibilities. But the buildings remain and instead the tourists mistake the flowers assault as simple beauty.

Palm trees of all kinds punctuate the island. Mostly coconut, but there are others. In the morning they rustle in the breeze that comes over the piers and tell tales of the pirates that once ran these waters. Unfortunately, it is in a language I can’t understand. I appreciate their intentions though and hope they do not throw a coconut at me for my lack of tree talk education.

This is not to say that this paradise is perfect. Nor should it be. If you find what you think is a perfect paradise, you are either not looking hard enough or you paid more money than I make in a year to stay where you are at.

Poverty is large on the island. It looms over you as you walk through town. Caye Caulker is not a developed enough tourist destination to have successfully shoved the poorer natives out of their homes and out of the sight of paying customers (because after all, who wants to be reminded of the real world when you just dropped a couple grand a person on an all inclusive). The people who live here are happy though, as much as we are in our own lives, maybe a bit more though, admittedly, perhaps a bit less. Children still play and laugh, adults still work and live. People fall in love, fight and take the trash out. They just do it without the cell phones, video games and gas prices that interrupt our daily lives. I imagine they have their own interruptions. Ones that I will never understand as I can only observe their daily lives. Still, it is reassuring to see all of it here. It means that this is real. It is not a whitewashed dream.

As for food, there is plenty and all of it looks good. On the piers, men unload and clean their catches, rock lobsters, conch and fish of all colors. And hour later, you can have it on your plate at one of the local restaurants. Last night I had a conch ceviche that was simply amazing. It started out tangy and spicy and ended up sweet and left a pleasant burn on the tongue as you swallowed.

Alright, I suppose you are all tired of my sappy poetic waxing. Besides, you all would like to know who won the snow blower. The winner of the snow blower is Karla Hal.

Congratulations! And I hope that you do not have call to use it for many weeks to come.

California poppies are, shockingly enough, in the poppy (Papaveraceae) family and grow in California. They are so ubiquitous with California that they were named the State flower in 1903. The California Poppy has provided the residents of California with a food, oil and cosmetic source for as long as there were people in the area (you know, like even before California was “discovered”). Because of this, there is an Official Poppy Day on April 6th and a Poppy Week from May 13-18. I think this is the only flower I know of that gets more official days than all the previous presidents of our country combined.

These little beauties may look fragile, but they are not. They prefer to grow in sandy dry soil in view of the full sun, which in this area can be a wicked mistress. Not to mention that the areas where California Poppies frequently grow are subject to wind gusts in excess of 40 MPH. These flowers are well adapted to taking a beating and being beautiful while they do so.

They can be grown outside the state of California and will do great if you can provide the climate they like and will do ok if you can’t. While they are technically a perennial, they cannot tolerate temps that dip below 20F, so in most places, even in California, they are regarded as an annual. They do best and look best in alpine or rock gardens where their low growing, compact beauty can be showcased best.

They are also an excellent flower for those who are looking to xeriscape their yard. They need, actually prefer, little water and will flourish under xeriscape conditions. These flowers tend to grow in conditions that others simply cannot. As a matter of fact, many gardeners fail to grow them because they give them too much attention. These are one of the lone wolves of the botanical world. They prefer it if you just left them alone.

They are vibrant and strong and blindingly bright. Just perfect for the gardener who is looking for a low maintenance flower to fill in that tricky and annoying dry spot in the yard.

One sure sign you are in the Mohave is the presence of Joshua trees. Passing a field of Joshua trees is like stumbling on a crowd of trees that suddenly got religion of the David Koresh kind. These born again trees raise twisted limbs to the sky in a crazed supplication. Apparently the early Mormon pioneers thought so as well, as they supposedly named for the prophet Joshua.

My sister informed me that it is illegal to take down or move a Joshua Tree and that the properties that are covered with them are rendered worthless. A search of the internet when I got home showed no such law, but I wonder if this is a widespread urban legend in these parts and if an unsuspecting homeowner’s value is affected by it.

Joshua trees are yuccas. A painfully slow growing yucca, growing only an average of a half inch a year. I was particularly lucky in that the Joshua Trees were in full bloom, which only happens from February to April and not every year. Blooming only happens if an appropriate amount of rainfall happens. I just was lucky that the right conditions happened this year and that I had the chance to be here.  The tree also has just one pollinator, the Yucca Moth.

Frequently, Joshua Trees are seen growing in groups and this happens because they can grow from underground rhizomes. They also grow from seeds.

The biggest threat to Joshua Trees is in the desert is wind. These plants have very shallow root systems and the a good stiff wind can knock them over in a heartbeat.  Struck down by the hand of God, I suppose you could say.

Crooked and bent, constantly battling the elements, these trees are a testament to the sheer tenacity of plants in the desert. They are also a symbol of the botanical beauty that exists in even the harshest elements.