Arizona has nice, light breezes. Then there was the sunny day when we came home recently and found the chaise lounge in the pool. Either our neighbor lost his mind or some crazy wind kicked up while we were out. The latter seems far more likely. But it was so nice and calm out.

Welcome to the Monsoon Season. The North American monsoon happens every year during the summer in the American SW. The wind in Arizona usually flows from the west. At the start of Monsoon Season, it begins to come from the south. What difference does that make?

Moisture. Low-level moisture – and here’s the delicious part – thunderstorms!

Who doesn’t love a good thunderstorm. Humphrey, that’s who. But that’s a story for another day.

As an FYI, a thunderstorm is not a monsoon. The monsoon is the season, not an individual storm.

There’s a lot of technical detail, but I’m more interested in seeing the storm than exactly why it’s happening. But this season and its storms, driven by heat, produce some oddities unknown in other areas such as:

• Haboobs – (yes they’re really called that) these are the giant walls of dust like the one that engulfed downtown Phoenix last year.
• Dust Devils – this looks like a tornado but forms from the ground upward, not the clouds downward. It’s just what it sounds like – a spinning tower of dust created by extremely hot surfaces and rising heat. We see these all the time in Arizona but it’s very odd unless you’re used to it.
• Gustnadoes – More of a combination of a dust devil and tornado, can be strong enough to cause significant damage.

Then there are straight line winds, tornadoes, hail, flash flooding – but don’t let that fool you. Most days we have bright blue Arizona skies and the storms are generally welcome when they come.

“But still, like dust, I’ll rise.”

-Maya Angelou

What does this mean for my garden?

It means some of my trees are – leaning. To be clear, it’s not windy out when this photo was taken. This is just the new shape my olive tree has taken on. Fortunately, olive trees are fairly pliable and it was easy enough to give it some support with bamboo stakes. I’m hoping it stays up!

That’s a bit better. And look at those early morning Arizona sun rays!

The other tree that I finally noticed needed some support was my potted orange tree. I don’t know much about citrus trees (this will become abundantly clear in a future post). This is what my tree looked like.

I had been thinking for awhile that I had a weeping orange tree. Pretty cool. Then today I took a look. Is it a coincidence that the tree starts to “weep” right where the vertical support stops? These are laughing at myself moments. So I gave it some support. We’ll see what happens.

This also turned into a moment of catching Humphrey stealing mulch out of the raised bed. Good thing dogs don’t play poker – Humphrey doesn’t have the face for it. His eyes tell the truth every time – they’re my favorite thing about him (or in my top 10 – he really is the best)

And for one more little update – here is my Princess Kate clematis.

This is pretty much how it looked when I planted it. No growth at all. But in Arizona in July, that’s totally missing the point. It’s alive. It’s 115 degrees out and it’s alive. This is a tremendous success. Believe it or not, I think that this is one of gardening’s greatest gifts. Adjusting expectations to reality. What a lot of trouble that saves!

Once more unto the breach,
Ruby

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PLANT SPOTLIGHT

Amaranth (Love-Lies-Bleeding)

The Basics

Sun: Full sun

Water: Low

Mature size: 1-10′ ft tall, 2-8′ ft wide

Bloom time: Summer–fall

Hardiness: Zone 9b

Notes: Strong as an ornamental and an edible. Size variation based on variety.

My gardening love will always be flowers, above all else. When I was growing seeds in the Northeast, I came across Amaranth as an annual I wanted to try. Who wouldn’t want this bouquet on their table?

I found that there are more varieties than the dark red color. Some drop like tassels, and others are upright.

I didn’t have much success in the Northeast. Why? Because I had actually stumbled upon a plant that would rather be in Phoenix!

Amaranth is a heat‑adapted ancient grain with a dramatic past. If there were ever a plant designed for Phoenix, it’s amaranth. It’s a C4 photosynthetic annual, which means it’s biologically optimized for the exact conditions that make most plants miserable here: intense sun, low humidity, and sustained heat. While other annuals faint in June, amaranth simply straightens its spine and keeps growing.

Why It’s Called “Love‑Lies‑Bleeding”

The name comes from the plant’s long, red inflorescences, which can cascade downward like a crimson rope. In Victorian flower language, it symbolized unfading love or love that endures suffering.

The genus name Amaranthus comes from the Greek amarantos, meaning “unfading” or “everlasting.” It’s a poetic nod to the plant’s resilience and the way its flowers hold color even when dried.

Growing Amaranth in Phoenix (Zone 9b)

• Sun: Full sun, even in June
• Water: Deep watering every 3–4 days once established
• Soil: Loose, well‑draining, slightly amended
• Heat tolerance: Excellent — thrives in 105–115°F
• Spacing: Give it room; it grows taller and wider than expected
• Pests: Minimal; occasional leaf miners early on

Seedlings look delicate, but once they root in, they transform. The stems thicken, the leaves broaden, and the plant takes on a surprisingly strong, sturdy appearance.

Since I can’t show you inflorescences from my plant yet, I found some examples.

Why It Belongs in a Phoenix Garden

Amaranth is one of the rare plants that doesn’t need to be shaded, babied, or fussed over. It simply grows — beautifully and reliably.

It gives you:

• Vertical structure
• Edible leaves and seeds
• Cut flowers (that can also be dried)
• Drought tolerance
• Heat resilience
• A plant with a story

Amaranth isn’t your everyday flowering annual. It’s a little exotic, something that feels both different and ancient, and a plant that fits an English cottage aesthetic (hence the Victorians’ interest). Above all, unlike so many other plants, it genuinely wants to be here in Phoenix — a true right‑plant‑in‑the‑right‑place scenario.

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Gardening is not like school. For one thing, you can go to the bathroom without getting special permission. But I digress. What I really meant was that copying the person next to you is not cheating. It’s not even frowned upon. It’s actually pretty smart.

Figuring out what works in Phoenix takes a lot of research, but it also takes experimentation. I’ve researched multiple plants already and found that the data isn’t always spot on. Some plants were supposed to be difficult, but they’re thriving. Others that supposedly “can’t get enough sun” – let’s just say that they can and they have. Experimentation with gardening takes time and money. But your neighbors have done that work for you. If it works in their yard, it will likely work in yours.

“Experience is the teacher of all things.”

-William Shakespeare, “Julius Caesar”

We took a drive through our neighborhood with this thought in mind. Here, in the heat of June, are some of my favorite plants I found thriving and some thoughts on how I can use them in my garden.

I am not entirely certain of the species of this ornamental grass, but it was a reminder that I’m a fan in general. It’s some type of native desert bunchgrass. There are several that work well in Arizona including Deer Grass (Muhlenbergia rigens), Blue Grama (Bouteloua gracilis), and Desert Needlegrass (Achnatherum speciosum). Some ornamental grasses can be invasive, especially in the warm weather of Arizona, so do your research before planting.

I’m focused on the plant in the foreground, the Red Bird of Paradise (Caesalpinia pulcherrimo). I tend to lean towards white, blue, and purple in my flower choices, but there’s a reason this bush caught my attention. I’ve seen it everywhere. And that’s a good thing. On roadsides. In neighborhoods all over. In August last year, when we had not seen rain for weeks, I noticed that these were just starting to look limp. Red Bird of Paradise can take it here.

I think this mesquite tree is beautiful. I love the foliage – wispy and dense at the same time. But mostly – it’s huge! And look at all of that glorious shade underneath. I just don’t know that I have a spot for a tree this size. Hmmm. Or do I?

I’m a Knicks fan but this color combo will always make me think of the Lakers. Yellow and purple just work. The yellow plant in the background is what really has my interest. Tecoma stans, or Arizona Yellow Bells. These are another plant that I see bloom on and on through the intense heat. Color (both the green foliage and the yellow flowers) are a commodity in the summer. The cactus is a purple prickly pear. I have added a few of these to our front yard. However, they’re purpleish. I believe this is opuntia santa rita, which has a deeper, more continuously purple shade.

What is it that I love about an English garden so much? Flowers. Abundance. Variety. Plants like these can contribute to that feeling — and they have the potential to be reliable pillars in the landscape. They’ll give me the structure I need so I can experiment around them.

That’s what I learned this week: sometimes it’s too hot to try so hard. Go ahead and copy. These plants are thriving for a reason.

Too hot for breaches. Stay in the shade and drink water,
Ruby

P.S.

Please tell Mommy to stop gardening and that I would prefer to sit in the shade until at least September.

-Humphrey

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Does anyone remember Disney’s Robin Hood with the animals? Robin Hood was a fox, and there were those palace-guard birds who marched back and forth announcing the time – “One o’clock and all’s well!” I feel like we do that with summer temperatures in Phoenix. Everyone on the phone asks: “How hot is it now?”

It’s 108 and all’s well.

Well… mostly well. Nothing unexpected, at least. The petunias are still thriving, but the calibrachoa is dying back – exactly on schedule. They’ve done their job as spring annuals.

The acanthus and eryngium are also fading (that’s generous – they’re out!), which I expected. I’m hoping they return in fall when the world is gentler.

I’m especially grateful for the containers on wheels. Snail vine handled 100 degrees just fine, but anything past that seems to be too much direct sun. Being able to roll them into morning sun only positions has probably saved them. The zinnias in the same planter won’t mind the shift. They’re struggling too. I’m attached to these snail vines because I grew them from seed this spring, and I’d really like to see them make it.

Humphrey continues to be my garden buddy, especially for early-morning watering. He treats it like a job. He drops his toys in the backyard the moment I head toward the Hygge Garden in the front – that’s “business” to him. His biggest responsibility (in his mind) is diving into the hose stream. The hair on his head is perpetually curly and plastered down because he gets it soaked so often.

I still have roses blooming, the orange tree has new growth, the olives and palms are holding steady, and the star jasmine is climbing. Princess Kate is struggling, but Jackie and Bubba are doing fine. Here’s the best panoramic shot I can get of the Hygge Garden right now.

June is technically the toughest gardening month in Phoenix – one of the hottest and driest. Monsoon season doesn’t really begin until July, and even then, the rainy days are few and far between. Either way, we’re in the heart of things now, and I’m just happy to have living plants when a few months ago, things looked like this:

Once more unto the breach,
Ruby

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“I should like to spend the whole of my life in traveling, if I could anywhere borrow another life to spend at home.”

-William Hazlitt

That says it well. I do love both traveling and staying at home. But sometimes, especially when it’s getting warm (that’s a euphemism for roasting) here, a day or two in cooler temperatures is good for one’s sanity.

We’ve looked forward to exploring the West since we arrived in Phoenix, but somehow never got around to it. So we finally decided to take two days to ourselves and drive to San Diego and back. We stayed in La Jolla, ate a delicious dinner, walked the beautiful streets, saw the Pacific Ocean, and then made our way home again. The slight chill in the air made me appreciate the warmth in Phoenix.

As far as gardening goes, San Diego is something like Shohei Ohtani. (Sorry for mixing Padres and Dodgers in a simile.) What I mean is: San Diego is a gardening unicorn. It’s a combination of things that almost never exist together. Ohtani is both an outstanding hitter and a great starting pitcher. No one else even does both, let alone well.

San Diego showed me desert plants (aloe, agave, cacti) growing next to tropicals (palms, birds of paradise) growing next to English cottage plants (delphinium and foxglove in full bloom). Agave and delphinium should not be happy in the same place. They just shouldn’t.

But they are.

What this told me was that the people who have desert plants in San Diego have them because they want them. They have other choices and still choose desert plants. In other words, people genuinely like these plants. Maybe I can try a little harder to appreciate their virtues.

I saw several examples of stunning aeonium displays. A succulent where the leaves grow in perfect rosettes — the plant itself is the flower. How cool is that?

And then there was the wacky — aloe grown as a tree.
Aloe. As a tree.

And then there were the simply charming details — the kind that make you stop and smile, or rethink every gate, archway, and vine in your yard.

We enjoyed our little break and came home with multiple garden ideas. But perhaps the most inspiring thing of all occurred on the way to San Diego, passing through an area known as Devil’s Canyon. This involves traversing a mountainous region where the elevation climbs over 4,000 feet. The thing is, they’re not so much mountains as rock piles. Four‑thousand‑foot‑high rock piles.

I’ve heard it described as lunar, and that’s not far off. But I didn’t have to look too hard to see that plants are thriving there — ocotillo (grrr), cacti, succulents. A whole variety of plants growing in a place that looks like it shouldn’t support anything at all.

My takeaway is that if plants can grow here with no one watering them, my garden dilemmas in Phoenix must not be so big after all.

Once more unto the breach,
Ruby

The post Week 9: San Diego Garden Inspiration for a Phoenix Yard appeared first on An Anglophile in Phoenix.

Why summer gardening in Phoenix requires discipline, humor, and occasionally leaving your house without your dog.

Truth be told, I am the last one who should be writing this post. I should be reading it. How do I write about something I am clearly determined to learn the hard way?

Be warned: this is not going to be the post with pretty pictures and a happy success story. This is a learn from my mistakes post.

“Want for nothing but patience.”

-Jane Austen

I’ve already explained the reality of ordering plants for Phoenix. Most of what you order will need cautious, drawn‑out hardening off — and even that may not be enough to save it. I did, however, discover some online nurseries that grow in the desert. Okay, so it’s the high desert, not Phoenix, but it’s close enough. If I baby them a little at first, the plants can survive.

I will (with discomfort) show you the plants I have just chosen to put outside. They are… looking less than spiffy.

No. I am not proud of myself.

The thing is, it’s late May. We had mini heat waves in March, true, but overall the temperatures stayed friendly. Now we’re topping 100°F regularly. With the exception of true natives that want their roots nice and toasty, this is not the right time to plant anything.

June and July are the hottest months here, regularly topping 110°F. To survive that, plants need to be established — as in, not planted two weeks ago. The goal for plants in summer is survival, not beauty. Just as some gardeners in the North wrap their roses in wool for winter, producing a less‑than‑picturesque view out the window, the mindset must be the same here. Survival first.

SO WHY DO I KEEP ORDERING PLANTS?

Is it a disease? Maybe. I think it has something to do with reading my email with my single caffeinated cup of coffee every morning and being dragged in by messages warning me that drought‑tolerant perennials are selling out. Maybe it’s the Northeast garden calendar still burned into my brain. Or maybe I just like plants.

All of the above, most likely.

So I’m promising: I’m done.
(Except for things that won’t be delivered until fall — let’s not be extreme about this.)

In the meantime, here are some other ways to entertain yourself besides plant shopping:

Play with your doodle.

Humphrey is puzzled as to what the problem is. He is always at my side, ready for a refreshing game of “chase me around the yard” at a moment’s notice.

Enjoy a morning cup of coffee before it gets hot.

Again, with your doodle. Humphrey takes this particular responsibility very seriously. He smells my coffee and decides that it offends him every single morning.

Go out to eat (indoors).

Maybe enjoy a tasty beverage. This does not involve your doodle. Sorry Humphrey.

So until fall is here, the focus is on protecting what we have, helping it survive, and appreciating it. I’ve spent many winter evenings in front of a fire with a blanket, browsing seed websites and sketching border layouts. It’s time to do the same now — minus the fire and blanket. Maybe an icy beverage and some breathable fabrics.

Once more unto the breach,
Ruby

P.S.

I am also going to do myself a favor and do a comprehensive “unsubscribe” email sweep.

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As I may have said once or thirty times, shade is priceless here. The desert has no mercy at noon, and few plants can take the sun at its strongest. Even among the famous saguaro cactus, the seedlings that tend to survive are the ones that grow in the shade of a “host” tree. I have decided to plant trees. You already know about the two olive trees and Bubba the desert willow. Today I want to tell you about a tree named Jackie.

My favorite season has always been summer, followed by spring. Spring is tricky though. It can be the most frustrating of seasons, because it teases you – temperatures rise, then plummet. Bulbs bloom, then it snows. It’s a seesaw.

“The spring came slowly up this way.”

-Thomas Hardy

But something spring is universally appreciated for is its flowering trees. Particularly the cherry tree. A scene like this stops most in their tracks:

Yes, the leaves are still not back, but look. Really — look. A moment worth stopping for.

What could be more beautiful? The Southwest puts on its own spring show with blooming fields of wildflowers and flowering cacti. But it does not give you the cherry tree.

I started reading through HOA‑approved trees for my front yard. During this process, Humphrey was — I hope — thinking about his actions last week in ripping up my germander bush in the backyard. More likely, he was just counting the moments until his next treat.

You can judge for yourself:

The first tree that I noticed on the list was the Jacaranda. I’ve seen it in Florida, and more recently in Sicily. Needless to say, it’s an eye‑catcher.

If you’ve ever seen one in full bloom, you know why:

Is it the abundant gentle pink of the cherry tree? No, but it’s still covered in flowers, and I have always loved purple.

The thing is, trees aren’t cheap. And given the high risk with any plant purchase here, particularly at this time of year, it didn’t seem like the right time to invest. Also, sometimes the budget is there and sometimes it isn’t. Bubba was on the high end. Then I looked to see if anyone sold them on Etsy. I ordered this:

Isn’t she cute? How could I not call her Jackie?

This baby is not meant for putting in the ground in Phoenix in May. That would be cruel, and she would not make it, shaded or otherwise. So, at least for the first summer, Jackie is growing in a nursery pot (white — this is important; no black pots) in the Hygge Garden. She gets morning sun and afternoon shade. I usually have the pot sitting in one of my raised containers so the radiant heat from the concrete pavers isn’t an issue.

And how is Jackie doing?

See for yourself:

Quite well, I’d say! I hadn’t realized myself until I compared the pictures. Take photos, even if they’re just for yourself. It’s encouraging to see progress, and sometimes our negative glasses stop us from noticing it without the visual evidence.

If anyone asks what hygge looks like in triple‑digit heat, these before‑and‑after photos of Jackie are my answer.
A little progress, a little shade, a little hope.

Once more unto the breach,
Ruby

The post Week 7: Planting a Jacaranda in Phoenix — Meet Jackie, My Baby Tree appeared first on An Anglophile in Phoenix.

I’m finding that even though I can’t grow many of the species I see on BBC’s Gardener’s World, I’m still enjoying watching. I pick up small, practical things — a better way to deadhead, a reminder about pruning timing — the kind of universal advice that translates across climates. But I also love the home‑garden videos viewers send in. They range from London flats overflowing with houseplants to tidy allotments to gardens from around the world.

One of them has stayed with me: a gardener in Ukraine. Her small cottage garden was lovely on its own terms — the kind of space anyone would consider a triumph — but it was also a sanctuary for her in the middle of a war zone. It reminded me of how useful gardening can be when dealing with whatever anxieties I’m facing.

“And the peace of the garden fell upon his heart.”

-Alfred, Lord Tennyson

She spoke about tending her clematis while hearing distant bombings. When asked her favorite, she showed a clematis with cup‑shaped flowers, somewhere between a tulip and a lily, red with white edging. It was enchanting.

I’ve only tried clematis once before, back when I lived in the Northeast, and it didn’t go well. So I wasn’t optimistic when I started researching whether I could grow one in Phoenix. But I learned that while most clematis would struggle here, there is one group with a fighting chance: Clematis texensis.

As the name suggests, it comes from Texas — specifically west‑central Texas — where it grows in heat, dry air, rocky soil, and intense sun (as long as the roots stay shaded). That makes it one of the few clematis with a realistic shot at surviving a Phoenix summer. The classic large‑flowered varieties simply can’t.

I planted mine much later than ideal, but I’ve done everything I can to set it up for success. I mixed a custom potting blend using coconut coir, perlite, and pea gravel:

60% coconut coir • 25% perlite • 15% pea gravel (give or take — it’s in that ballpark)

I placed it where it gets a brief bit of morning sun and then shade for the rest of the day, added a trellis, and mulched heavily to keep the roots cool. If radiant heat becomes an issue, I can shift the pot. We’ve already hit triple digits and will likely stay there awhile. I ordered this little lady weeks ago, and she arrived now, so planting her wasn’t optional — only protecting her was.

I don’t expect flowers or much growth this year. My best‑case scenario is simple: survive the summer. If Princess Kate manages that, I think she’ll become a long‑term resident of the garden. And who knows — maybe other Clematis texensis varieties will join her. Like the gardener in Ukraine, I can imagine this becoming a favorite.

As for Humphrey’s role this week: he remains the “Chief Inspector of Gardens,” though I’m not sure he interprets the title quite the way I intended. He’s never allowed in the front (the Hygge Garden) unsupervised, but he does have a dog door to the back. Because of that, we’re much more cautious about what we plant there. Gardening with a puppy is always an adventure — but he’s so worth it.

Once more unto the breach,
Ruby

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