It is said you should learn something new every day.  And I really believe that.  At 59, I’ve been retired for 19 years, so I have a lot of time on my hands, and I try to make some kind of productive use of it rather than sit around and watch television all day.  What you learn doesn’t have to be a big thing, like “yesterday, I learned French.”  It can be small and relatively insignificant, such as how I recently came to the conclusion that oat milk is not creamy enough to satisfy me in my morning cup of coffee.

And it doesn’t have to be a factoid.  I also recently discovered that I really enjoy one of our activities here at Stonewall Gardens, a dominoes game called Mexican Train.  Obviously, there were the rules of the game to be learned.  But I also discovered that I enjoy the social interaction, particularly with one of my fellow residents who is actually rather fun to be around and not a nincompoop as I had previously thought.  Lesson learned!

Then there are the things you learn that come as a complete surprise.

I was faced with a dilemma.  My recliner is a very important piece of furniture.  As someone disabled who cannot walk, if I’m not in bed asleep I am parked in my recliner.  I’m actually sat in it right now with my laptop balanced on my – wait for it – lap composing this post.

Next to it is a large window.  This is intentional as it gives me optimal viewing of the goings-on in the courtyard, making me the Gladys Kravitz of Stonewall Gardens.  But an unintended side effect is that I can be viewed by everyone that walks by.  And worse than that, people stop and wave, expecting me to do the same.  If I don’t, they hit me up in the dining room later with, “hey, I waved at you this morning but you didn’t wave back,” as if I’d drowned a kitten.  It was all becoming a bit tedious, so I hatched a plan.

I came to gardening early in life.  It has always been a passion of mine since working at two different Armstrong Garden Centers after school as a teenager.  Nothing about it is random for me.  I go for a lush, leafy, verdant look, and carefully select my pots and accessories for optimal accent value, with size, color, and texture playing important roles.  And placement.

So I had this idea.  To shield myself from the wavers without completely blocking the view out my window, I would get a new pot and a new plant whose growth characteristics would eventually, when the plant reached maturity, form a natural screen.  I love a good research project.

First, there’s the growing zone to consider.  The USDA Hardiness Zone Map divides North America into 13 separate planting zones.  Use it to determine which plants are most likely to thrive in your specific geographic area.  Palm Springs is zone 9b.  Find yours by clicking here.  Then, of course, there’s light and shade to consider.  The spot in question for me is a south-facing location that gets direct morning sun for about four hours; this tapers off in the afternoon when it gets lots of indirect sunlight.  At midday it is shielded by a large tree which allows plenty of sunlight through but keeps it being scorched by the desert’s noontime sun.  It is never really in shade until dusk.

It’s like a botanical garden without an entrance fee.  You can spend hours there just browsing, and I do! Make a day of it.  And if you get a bit peckish, you can grab some tacos and a margarita just around the corner at Casa Luna – try the Tacos Volcan Guadalajara style and tell them Señor Mateo sent you.

I narrowed my choices down to a Mexicali Rose Fairy Duster.  Not only was it bushy and leafy once fully grown, but it had a red flower I thought would add some interesting color to my patio.  I got their last one.  And while I was at it, I treated myself to a new ceramic pot, of a kindof blueish-teal glaze.  This was all very exciting and I couldn’t wait to get home and plant it.

First, a thin layer of potting soil, just enough to cover the bottom of the pot.  I moisten this layer with a little water.  Then I cut the plastic pot the plant is in from the nursery away with scissors; this allows me to transfer it to its new pot with as much dirt intact and around its root ball as possible, which is less traumatic for the plant.  I fill around the plant with potting soil up to about an inch from the lip of the pot, and then add about an eighth to a quarter inch of pea pebbles – not only is this aesthetically pleasing, but it keeps the soil underneath from drying out after watering via evaporation in the hot, dry desert air.

I moved the finished creation into place and arranged a few tchotchkes around it, including a small three-columned cactus I adopted from my next-door neighbor who died.  It had been a busy afternoon, but I was well pleased with the outcome of my efforts.  And for me the joy comes from the doing, the result is a bonus, like a cherry atop a sundae.  All that remained was for me to name it, and I decided it looked like a Marty.

That night, while sitting in my recliner, I glanced out the window at Marty.  To my surprise, and my terror, he looked like he was dying.  His lush foliage while still green looked shriveled up.  He appeared to be in great distress.  I was sad.  Sometimes this happens.  Plants are living things, they are not just ornaments or ornamental.  Perhaps the shock of being transplanted had been too much.  Maybe he’d gotten too much sun that afternoon.  It could be he just needed a drink of water.  So I hopped into my wheelchair and rushed outside with a watering can.  As the sun set behind Mt. San Jacinto in the west, I soaked Marty’s soil and hoped for the best.

As the sun came up the next morning I leapt out of bed and went outside on my patio.  Marty was the picture of perfect health – lush, green, and sprouting flowers!  Whew, he just needed to adjust to his new home, and I went about my day not giving him another thought.  That evening, as the Coachella Valley fell into its “sundowner” dusk – Mt. San Jacinto is so tall that Riverside and Los Angeles to the west of it still have about an hour of sunlight left while we are in shadows as the sun drops below its peak in the sky – I again glanced out my window from my recliner at Marty and was again distressed to see him in what I thought was the same state of distress I’d seen him in the night before.

This cycle of him being fine, even beautiful, during the day then weirdly not dead, but dead-ish, during the evening was repeated the next night, and the next.  And I thought to myself, being a rather clever chap, this seems intentional.  Time to fire up Google! I tried several search phrases.  The key to getting the right answer from Google is asking the right question.  I think the one that did the trick was something like “do some plants go to sleep at night?”

Turns out they do!

Nyctinasty is the “sleep movement” of plants, where leaves and flowers fold up or change position in response to darkness (or a drop in the temperature) and the plant’s internal circadian clock, thought to be a process crucial for some plants’ survival.  This movement, which kindof looks like “shriveling up” is not based on growth but on changes in cell turgor, achieved through the action of specialized motor cells in a structure called the pulvinus (or geniculum), located at the base of the leaf or leaflet.  These cells change volume to cause the visible movement.

The exact function is not fully understood, but hypotheses include that this was an evolutionary development to (1) optimize photosynthesis by positioning leaves to capture optimal sunlight during the day, (2) protect petals from damage by deterring insects and reducing leaf clutter to make it easier for predators to find nocturnal insect herbivores, and (3) help shed water from leaf surfaces at night.  Given that the Mexicali Rose Fairy Duster hails from the warm, arid climate of the southwestern United States and northern Mexico, it is also possible the process of nyctinasty serves to help with the plant’s overall temperature regulation.

It is 6:38 in the morning; the sky is light but the first rays of sunlight have not reached us yet here at the base of Mt. San Jacinto.  I just glanced to my left out my window, and Marty is awake!  He has spread his leaves to greet the day.  Isn’t nature full of wonder?  I am less concerned with what happens to us when we die, and more focused on what happens to us while we live – my life and the life going on around me.  I guess in that sense you could call me pro-life!

And now we’ve all learned our something new for today.  And if you already knew about nyctinasty, I say good on you!  But you better get busy, because this day is underway and there are only so many hours of sunlight.