When I mention black currants while talking fruit trees and shrubs with people in Albuquerque, I have come to expect that we are often starting the conversation thinking about different things. Most commonly, people have experienced or heard about the European black currant, Ribes nigrum.
They recall an earthy, resinous flavor with nice sweetness and a tart finishing kick. European currants are best reserved for cooking. With their strong flavor, they make incredible sauces and condiments and are equally delicious as preserves and in pies and tarts. These black currants have a devoted following. Because the flavor is very distinct, I have found people often have a binary reaction when I mention the fruit: either pleasurable nostalgia or occasionally disinterest or dislike.
The other thing people confuse for black currants are little dried raisins, similarly dark in color and confusingly sold as “currants.” These fruits are made from “raisins de Corinthe,” Greek grapes grown, dried and shipped for hundreds of years from a port of that name. These are not the black currants I am talking about.
While I do like eating and growing the European black currant here in Albuquerque (mostly as a shady understory plant), I am much more excited about our native black currant — Ribes aureum— the clove currant, aka golden or buffalo currant.
The clove currant is more fruity, less funky and a bit sweeter than its European counterpart. There is still some pleasing complexity and tartness to the fruit, but nothing mouth-puckering. They are perfect for fresh eating — or freeze them so they can be thrown in a smoothie or used as a blueberry replacement in pancakes when the snow flies. The fruits can get nice and large for a currant, from ¼ inch up to ¾ inch in size, with a shiny, blue/black color. Even the shrubs themselves are a bit larger, reaching 5 to 6 feet at maturity.
As an ornamental, the clove currant is a bit too floppy for a hedge, and they do send out runners — so consider yourself warned. However, if you give them a little space as a focal point in the garden, you will be rewarded with abundant dangling, bell-shaped yellow flowers in the spring that draw you across the yard with an overpowering vanilla and clove scent and, of course, all the incredible life that visits the flowers for their nectar. You will also get to see them with their dusky-crimson foliage in the fall. For most of the summer, you and the birds can keep eating the fruits as they ripen singly or in small clusters.
Clove currants handle the New Mexico sun and heat with grace, but they are quite adaptable and can do well with partial and even full shade. Along the river, they are only occasionally shaded out by taller thickets. If you’re out wandering in the bosque this spring, keep an eye out (or follow your nose) for these incredible flowers and fruits.
Author: Graeme Davis is an ISA certified arborist and the owner of Flora Fauna Farm, a nursery that focuses on plants that grow well in the high desert. Flora Fauna Farm grows a diversity of edible trees and shrubs, useful native plants and unique landscape plants curiously underrepresented in the urban canopy of Albuquerque. You can see its offerings at www.florafauna.farm.
Being someone so immersed in planting design in my daily life and someone who is so plainly in love with plants, both wild and cultivated, it can be difficult to narrow my focus and play favorites. I owe this relationship with plants unequivocally to my grandmother the rosarian, who, when asked which rose was her favorite, would always reply, “The one that’s in front of me right now.” Therefore, I shall restrain myself for the purpose of this article to the seeded meadow in the high desert. I hope you will find the selections mentioned compelling enough to consider them and possibly experiment a little!
It was actually at my grandmother’s house that, in 2009, a friend and I, fresh out of the landscape architecture program at the University of New Mexico, germinated our first meadow from seed. We had stabilized 99% of the site’s steep grades with retaining walls, but a pesky little 300-square-foot sliver of dead sod at about a 30% slope seemed forever destined to erode out the driveway and down the storm sewer — rats!
There was an existing sprinkler system in place, and we were therefore able to provide timed irrigation to the surface of the soil without having to dig a bunch of new trenches and put a bunch of new plastic piping in the ground. A little idea sparked: Why not just seed a meadow! The cost of ingredients would be relatively low, and, given how cooked our bodies were from the work we’d already invested, a little bit of (somewhat) instant gratification sounded downright appealing.
On a late spring day, we bounced a springy roll of burlap out of the truck bed and onto our shoulders, then tossed the following in a large paper grocery bag:
2 small packets of Indian paintbrush (Castileja lanata)
2 small packets of mullein (Verbascum thapsis)
A couple of handfuls of grape hyacinth (Muscari armeniacum) and species tulip bulbs collected from excavation on site
We prepared the soil minimally for the seed mix, scuffing a couple of 2-cubic-foot bags of compost into the top inch or two of soil with a hard rake. We then hand-broadcasted the seed atop the loose dirt, east-west and then north-south, followed by lightly raking the seed and soil together to mix the two. Lastly, using a generous fistful of (100-ish) sod staples, we tightly pinned a single layer of burlap to the surface. The burlap serves as the secret ingredient in the concoction of a high desert meadow, especially on a slope. It serves a couple of purposes: First, it secures the soil and seed mixture, ensuring it doesn’t wash away in rivulets from the sprinklers or get blown away by the wind; it also holds onto a little moisture while allowing the emerging cotyledons — the plants’ first leaves — enough elbow room to squeeze into the sunlight.
Straightening up and drying our foreheads, both a bit chuffed at how easy that’d all been, we started taking wagers. “Which of the wildflower seeds do you think will bloom first?” I asked. “My money’s on the Indian paintbrush,” said my friend, fully aware that Indian paintbrush is hemi-parasitic and relies on blue grama to survive. I cracked up. He cracked up! If there seemed to be a clear underdog in the race, that was it!
We set the sprinklers to run for five minutes twice a day and after a couple weeks had passed, we teased the burlap from the surface, revealing a uniform green carpet. At the margins of the sliver of meadow there was a distinct green border of sprouts ceasing right where the burlap was cut. Neither of us had expected it.
By the end of that summer, we had nearly weaned the meadow off irrigation. The grasses and perennial wildflowers had come in marvelously. Now, as we near the spring season of 2024, and the first winter jasmine shrubs and daffodils are blooming, I drive by that yard in the Sandia foothills and think to myself how one of the best performing landscapes I ever had a hand in was also one of the easiest and least expensive.
Each year, there continues to be a succession of blooms. In springtime, grape hyacinth emerges first, followed by a flush of Indian paintbrush and then purple prairie clover. The grasses green up in May and mature through August, and the little bluestem holds a warm, russet color through the winter.
While the flax initially performed well and provided early color, it has had the least longevity of any of the wildflowers. The mullein seeds germinated well and formed soft rosettes, but the current residents of the property sadly weeded it out of the meadow for aesthetic reasons. The purple prairie clover flowers profusely every summer with irrigation once or twice a week. But, the real star of the show, from that first year until this day is — I never thought I’d say it — the underdog, Indian paintbrush.
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Food forests and edible landscapes have been around for a very long time. They are what helped ancient humans survive and thrive. Hunter-gatherers likely did not expend precious energy by wandering aimlessly, hoping to find sustenance, but rather they were able to evaluate the landscape around them and learn to harvest food occurring naturally in their habitats.
Forest edges were rich sources of diverse plant species, and ancient humans learned what species were edible, where to find them and even ways to support and encourage the growth of plants useful to them. Food forests or edible landscapes have evolved and adapted over thousands of years as humans’ hands and minds have learned to design them to their nutritional needs and geographic limitations. A food forest will be very different depending on where it is in the world, but all share some common traits that can be adapted to almost any climate.
Food forests are very different from traditional farming or growing a vegetable garden. They are designed to mimic the natural forest edge, where species producing edible fruits, nuts, berries, roots and tubers grow in natural layers. We can imitate this pattern with species of our choosing that will do well in our hardiness zone and climate. There are many references and publications on the subject and a quick internet search is an easy way to begin, as is your local bookstore’s gardening section.
The philosophy of permaculture design, popularized over the last few decades, has brought a new awareness to our landscape and garden design; we have learned to make use of topography, natural water movement, soil structure and amendments, sun and shade patterns over the seasons, and the importance of pollinators and wildlife in our gardens and lives. A food forest is a functional, beautiful and diverse way to garden holistically.
When you imagine your food forest, think about the layers of plant species and the food sources they provide. First, at the outer edge, there is the canopy, the tallest layer of trees. These might be fruit- or nut-bearing deciduous trees or even some conifers here or there, as even a pine tree has edible parts, and the needles make a fine tea.
The second story is a mid-level layer of smaller trees, such as semi-dwarf or dwarf apple, peach and plum trees. Under the smaller fruit trees comes the shrub layer. If shaded, it could be currants or gooseberries. If sunnier, perhaps raspberries or blackberries.
After the shrubs comes the herbaceous layer, planted with perennial herbs like rosemary, garden sage and thyme. Ground covers like strawberries can sprawl under and around, followed by root crops like carrots, radishes and more. Vining plants are important, too. Some, like sweet potatoes, can be both root and vine. Others, like grapes, can utilize the structure of the trees to move up through the branches, making harvesting an easy task.
In some environments, you can grow edible mushrooms as part of the lowest layer; they will feed on the decomposing mulch and decaying wood that is part of the forest floor. Mulch is critical in any garden or landscape and a necessity in a healthy food forest. Fallen leaves are an excellent natural mulch as are wood chips. Leaving or intentionally placing dead branches and logs is a great way to recycle nutrients naturally into the soil profile. Having rocks or stones in the mix is also a very good thing as they slowly release minerals as they break down over long periods of time.
Most of the plants in your food forest will be perennials, but as you see, there are places for annual herbs or vegetables anywhere there is room and the proper amount of shade, sunlight and moisture. Companion planting is a great way to decide what goes where, and diversity is the strength of any plant community. A food forest is the oldest, most resilient agroecosystem in the world, whether occurring naturally, enhanced by human hands and minds, or entirely created by intention and design.
Some of the benefits of a food forest are increased harvests based on diversity, nutrient storage and water retention in soil protected by mulch and overstory; healthy soil holding a host of beneficial microorganisms; and less weed and pest populations, again due to density and diversity, and therefore less maintenance and inputs (think fertilizer, weed control). Of course, organic principles are the way to go when growing anything you plan on consuming.
Like any garden or landscape, a food forest can and should reflect the humans who are part of the ecosystem and should be a place where native plants, wildflowers and grasses all have a place in the garden, where beauty, joy and learning from Mother Nature are sources of education, nutrition, comfort and pleasure.
Color has a more dramatic impact in a garden if plants with strong flower colors are juxtaposed against one another. In this Kaleidoscape design by Judith Phillips, the blue-purple blooms of dwarf butterfly bush, desert sage, catmint, lavender and vitex are contrasted with the rose-pink and magenta blooms of desert willow, cherry sage, creeping germander, giant four o’clock, purple ice plant, red yucca and desert globemallow. Yellow tones are provided by desert zinnia, yellow ice plant, yellow yucca and Lady Banks rose.
Using several different plants with similar color palettes prolongs the blooming season and provides unity to the landscape. While vivid color may be the appeal of the garden from spring through autumn, a landscape also needs “good bones” — enough evergreen foliage and shapely plant forms to provide interest when the blooming fireworks are over for the year. rosemary, Lady Banks rose, cliffrose, desert sage, hesperaloes and cotoneaster all contribute seasonal flower color as well as evergreen foliage in a broad range of greens and silvers to carry the garden through the colder winter months. In addition to their colorful warm season blooms, the curving trunks and branches of desert willow and vitex add sculptural value all year.
A lot goes into creating a landscape plan, and it helps to have some expert help. Local landscape architect George Radnovich, FASLA, created this design for those opting for a low maintenance yard. You can follow his design right down to each individual plant or customize it to fit your own yard. This is the fourth landscape plan we’ve featured in 505Outside, and we’ll be sharing one more plan in the next issue.
While there is no such thing as a totally maintenance-free landscape, this Loungescape comes as close as possible in Albuquerque. The key to this approach is to mimic the natural environment with the look and feel of New Mexico grasslands and piñon-juniper forests.
Instead of a traditional lawn, native grasses offer a more natural look, accented by a soaptree yucca and desert willows for color and dappled shade. Water-thrifty cacti are used for interest, color and a contrast of textures. Finely crushed gravel (aka crusher fines) is used as a walking path to the rear of the house.
For ease of maintenance, there is a concrete formal edge between the walking path and the foundation plantings next to the house. Rainwater is harvested from the roof and other impermeable surfaces, then directed to plants via canales, weep holes and a short retaining wall. Short evergreen trees such as mountain mahogany provide year-long interest. Three-leaf sumac was added for fall color, cherry sage for summer color and sand sage and fringed sage for winter foliage. Big sage was purposely placed along the eastern side of the house to lessen the exposure to the harsh, hot western sun, which would make the plants more water-thirsty. Lastly, spots of color are added throughout the landscape for interest.
A lot goes into creating a landscape plan, and it helps to have some expert help. Landscape architects specialize in designing outdoor spaces. Today, we’re sharing a plan particularly suited to our climate by New Mexico landscape designer David Cristiani. You can follow this design right down to each individual plant or customize it to fit your own yard. We’ll be sharing two more landscape plans in future issues of 505Outside.
Many plants from higher elevations or moister areas struggle when subjected to the long, torrid summers common in Albuquerque. The plants in this landscape are intended to thrive on heat, limited irrigation and minimal care — while exploding the popular myth that cacti and succulents look stark and don’t belong near our homes.
The Hotscape design embraces the environmental and visual qualities of Albuquerque’s high Southwestern desert location. Two areas of compacted crusher fines serve as a combined pathway, informal sitting area and a channel to harvest water from the occasional storm. A low berm provides visual interest, keeping the plants that cannot tolerate much extra moisture dry.
Modeled after the strikingly attractive and often evergreen plant communities native to the edges of Albuquerque, this design provides a great deal of visual interest throughout the year. The open, irregular canopies of Chinese pistache and screwbean mesquite provide filtered shade in summer and warming sunshine in the winter — an effect suggesting a desert arroyo. Fourwing saltbush screens the view to the street, and the dark, compact turpentine bush adds a pleasant fragrance with yellow fall flowers. The last, crucial ingredient to this design is the generous use of native desert accent plants, including the bold, blue-green forms of sotol, desert prickly pear and banana yucca. These local signature plants are accented further with small masses of seasonal color from low perennials and groundcovers, attracting both hummingbirds and passing neighbors!
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