On the right is a row of little agave plants, the start of probably 15 or so I will end up planting. They were scavenged from a variety of sources around here, mostly in neglected pots. In spite of getting minimal to non-existent attention for the past several years, they’ve managed to hang on to life, and now will finally get some care—as a horse barrier behind the Great Wall.
On the left is what these little plants may someday become, not blue agaves, since that’s another variety, but BIG agaves. The blue is at least as tall as a horse and is probably 20 years old, or 2,000 centidecades metric.
The part of the hill where I’m doing the planting is composed mainly of decomposed granite, a coarse crumbly ground that is sometimes loose and gravely and sometimes as hard as a brick. I’m digging the holes nice and big so their roots can get a good start. It is so surprising when I’m hacking a hole in the really hard stuff to run across a root from the nearby apricot tree. Those roots must dissolve the granite or something because I can’t see how they push their way through what is nearly impenetrable rock. Plants are amazing, kind of like house frogs. We miss you, Clarence.