Ode to the Agave
On my 2.5 acre property on this sunny hillside, I estimate that I have three hundred agave plants of all sizes and several shapes. I have a series of books on succulents and cacti by Jeff Moore, one of renowned horticultural experts in the field. One of those books is a massive picture book titled Aloes and Agaves in Cultivation. The first 197 pages are dedicated to Aloes with the next 132 pages on Agaves, which are apparently often mistaken for Aloes. One of the big differences besides Agaves being stiffer and spinier, is that Agaves grow to be much larger plants. Aloes bloom annually while Agaves are what is called monocarpic, which means they bloom once in their lives and that blooming marks the end of their life. Their habit is to breed and spawn pups that litter the ground around them and sometimes the very stalks of the Agave, and those pups carry on the circle of life for the next generation. So, the agave has three forms of propagation, the pups, the “bulbils” that form on the stalks and the seeds that come off the end-of-life seed stalks. This makes them a very versatile and prolific plant, especially in warmer weather areas like San Diego.
Given the monocarpic nature of Agaves, it is fair to say that people do not plant Agaves for their flowering even though they do a spectacular job of producing a flower the one time they do that. It is the broadleaf form of the Agave that gives it so much garden appeal. One of the common forms of Agave is the Agave Americana, which is often called the Century Plant in honor of its longevity. Like most things American, its attributes are exaggerated. It doesn’t usually live for a century though it can big enough to seem like it has lived for a century. Agaves can flower and die as quickly as five years, but most Agave Americanas last from 20-30 years, which is long enough to have earned them the Century Plant appellation. By the way, those pups usually form in the first third of the Agave’s lifespan so if you see pups you can assume you still have a good bit of time left with the primary plant.
Because Agaves propagate into pups and bulbils so easily, variegations tend to proliferate through transplanting and rare and strange plants are increasingly unusual because it so relatively easy to reproduce them. That leads to Agaves being a relatively inexpensive plant for the garden and they are literally everywhere if you let them grow on their own. I like that about Agaves and it makes me feel that they are very self-reliant and hearty, which has to be a good trait in anything. Because Agaves grow so big as individual plants, they tend to make a fairly dramatic statement in the garden. That and the blue coloration that characterizes the larger Agave Americanas make them stand out in the garden and become rather noteworthy in defining the areas of the garden. What than means is that when an Agave blooms, knowing that is a dramatic end-of-life statement, it is both a happy moment (those flowering stalks last many months) but also a sad moment for the garden because you know that a defining element of your display will soon need to be replaced. Even if the plant has pupped nicely, those pups are a fraction of the size of the mother plant.
I am dealing with this very issue at the back corner of my garage right now. I have three monstrous blue Agave Americanas, of which two are stalked and one is not. Those two twin towers make a bold statement that can be seen across the neighborhood. In fact, one woman has emailed and asked if she can come onto the property to properly photograph these beauties. The good news is that I have one large one left there and a handful of young pups, but the bad news is that their demise will leave a big gap on that part of the hillside that I have to consider how best to fill. I will probably wait until the felling of those stalk occurs later today (it was the subject of a conversation with Joventino this morning) and then decide what to do with the stump. They will dry into a perfectly interesting stump, not unlike the two I have on the back hillside, but while I’m happy to leave those two on the hillside in place as decorative elements, I am less inclined to do that up by the garage. I would feel funny cutting up the hillside stumps and removing them since I have now bought seven large pieces of what I call driftwood to decoratively place on parts of the hillside to accent the plantings. Buying one kind of stump and tossing out another seems too arbitrary.
Up behind the garage, the space is fairly limited and the viewing of the plants is quite close up and personal. That implies to me that this is not a place to leave a stump, but rather to remove it and find an interesting tree or plant to put in its place. Given the size of these plants, it will be a challenge to find something big enough to fill the space and yet affordable enough to justify the expense for the back of the garage. My friends in Ithaca would wonder why I don’t just buy something small and let nature grow it to scale, but I live in the moment and don’t like to wait for nature to decide when it is prepared to expand itself to fill my gaps. I think I have discovered another project for myself.
As noble as I consider the Agave to be, I don’t think I’m prepared to replace these two monsters with other Agaves. I want to be more creative than that, but I think I will have to both research in my books for something interesting and I will then have to figure out where the new plants can be purchased at reasonable prices. I know I don’t want anything too thorny since we work back there every day. I know from experience that Aloe plants, while fast growing and quite attractive with their annual blooms of red, become a tangled and thorny thicket in no time and will create an unpleasant environment there in the back. That makes me think that perhaps some Pygmy palms might do the trick. I need to consider the water needs of whatever I plant since I have no intention of irrigating yet another zone out there on that back corner of the garage.
Meanwhile on the rest of the property, especially the front hillside rolling down to the street, there are nothing but loads of Agave Attenuatas, which are called the blank canvas of the succulent garden. There are almost a hundred of them in front and on either side of the driveway. Every spring there are a number of them that bloom with large 10-12 foot draping flower stalks that are not at all like the trees launched by their Agave Americana cousins. And because these plants grow in clusters, there is little to mourn in their passing since the natural thinning of the patch seems almost helpful to the landscape. Once again the Agave is proving to be a stalwart contributor to the garden and in no way singling itself out for special attention other than to cast its seeds as is its mission in life.
I am reminded of that movie City Slickers when Billy Chrystal is in search of this mid-life truth. Curly, played in an eerie way by Jack Palance tells Billy that he has to determine the one thing (index finger held up in the air) that matters to him. It is no secret to the one thing that matters to the Agave. It unmistakably makes its presence known as it prepares to divert all its energy to its descendants through its stalk. The Agave gets no eulogy, but the seed stalk of new life is the ode to the Agave.