Spring arrived late in my corner of the world. With record-breaking heat for March across Southern California, rising as high as 95°F (35°C) in my neighborhood, we seemed to have jumped from winter to summer. After my winter garden break, I was anxious to get back to tending my garden. The leaves of the potted Ficus tree, standing obliquely across from my front door, were covered with a thick black fungus. Ugh!

Late one Saturday afternoon in early March, a neighbor joined me with his cat, Pumpkin, while I removed the leaves of the infected Ficus tree. Pumpkin settled down nearby on the lookout for our two resident hummingbirds. Thankfully, she’s never been able to grab one of them.

“We’re in for an extra hot summer,” my neighbor told me.
“Looks like it,” I said. “I’m hoping all this heat will help my Ficus to grow back.”

By March 27th, the Amarilla lilies and Aloe Saponaria were in full bloom, defying the relentless Sun God. Their brilliant colors lit up our garden. I gave thanks for the joy they brought to my days.

Temperatures dropped in April, bringing the promise of spring weather. But days with temperatures as high as 87°F (30.5°C) still lingered. The African Lily of the Nile rejoiced at the drop in temperatures and blessed us with four blooms. To my surprise, for the first time, the cactus that I’ve named Bella released four pink blooms. Until now, I had no idea that Bella is a Prickly Pear Cactus. Some three to four years ago, she was a tiny clipping when the landlord’s son asked me to transplant her to a larger pot. No matter how much care I take when I’m working near her, the miniscule thorns manage to pierce my clothing and garden gloves.   

During the hot March days, no amount of water was enough to revive the struggling large potted Aeonium Mint plant, near the wall to the parking area. By early April, the surviving branch of the white rose plant put out a few tiny new leaves, like a last goodbye. These leaves dried up in the heat. Then her living spark was no more. As I had suspected, her roots were rotten after being submerged for so many months during the 2024-2025 winter atmospheric deluge, then again in the less severe 2025-2026 rainfall. At the end of April, I replaced the two plants with a fragrant, apricot orange/pink Disneyland Rose®—she changes color from orange to pink as she ages—and a succulent yellow “ice plant.”

I’ve placed the Disneyland Rose® in the same location as the former white rose plant. It’s potted to avoid being submerged during winter rainfall. Since the “ice plant” is usually used as ground cover, I’ve placed her in a large, shallow pot.

As shown in the photo below, the Ficus tree took advantage of the hot spring days to sprout new leaves. What a joy! Wouldn’t it be great if we could remove the evil from among our body politic, like the infected leaves of a tree, and allow the common good to flourish?

Meanwhile, we have three active wildfires across Southern California. Thankfully, they are now 95-97 percent contained, with no fatalities. Amidst the chaos intruding in our lives from all fronts, my humble urban garden allows me to stay grounded and connected with Mother Earth.