It’s hour 23, you’re dressed for your boyfriend’s boss’s | sister-in-law’s | pet vet’s holiday dinner, and there’s no time for Prime to deliver a host gift.  What to take? That magnet your kid made in 2nd grade? That block of Humboldt Fog you bought to savor by yourself in quiet after hours of small-talk? That gift card for a sushi bento box from your local fish dealer?

Plants make the perfect gift, as they keep on giving and growing. If you want to keep it festive, consider picking up an Amaryllis, a Cyclamen, or a Christmas Cactus. If you have a bit more time, you could create a “grow” kit, filling a mason jar with rich, organic dirt, to package with a packet of seeds or a box of bulbs, a pretty pot and watering can, and a spade and / or gardening gloves. In your holiday card, you can include the following hand-written instructions for your host to care for her new plant!

Cyclamen are beautiful and delicate, but they’re actually hardy plants that do well in colder climates.  HGTV warns that three things will harm your cyclamen: over-watering, heat, and too much light. The coldest room in your house is the best home for your bright plant, which is much easier to grow from one in full bloom than from seed.  (But if you like a challenge, check here for tips, and google a “germination chamber.”)

Christmas cactus, or Schlumbergera, a genus of cacti originally found in the coastal mountains of south-eastern Brazil, are winter-blooming cacti that are easily cared for indoors.

•  To propagate, cut a short Y-shaped segment from the stem tip of a healthy plant, and place it in slightly sandy soil a quarter of its length deep, according to GardeningKnowHow.com, who also  recommends an even watering, and choosing a well-lit spot for your plant to thrive, but avoid direct sunlight.
• Cut your shoot back at the second joint, and after a few weeks, the cutting will start to show growth, which is the time to transplant it to a larger pot with a potting soil mix of compost, loam and sand.
• Water frequently, especially in spring and summer, the cacti growth period, keeping the soil slightly moist.  The plant should not sit in water, however, or it will develop root rot.
• Find a room where the temperature remains between 60 and 70 F.  And come fall, when your Christmas cactus has stopped flowering, encourage it to eventually rebloom by starting its dormancy cycle: reduce its light (12 – 14 hours of darkness), temperature (between 50 and 55 F), and moisture.

Do you have a last-minute holiday host to honor? A growing gift will remind them of your gratitude for their hospitality for months to come.  Take a photo of your “grow kit” gift and share it with us on Facebook or Twitter.  Happy Holidays!

(Photo Credit: Christmas Catcus: New Floridians)

Confession: I have a past of ignorant mis-smudging.  Growing up in Eugene, I am oft called a hippie here in L.A., what with my car-free ways and belief in spirit animals.  But even dropping that reference, I realize I am nowhere near knowledgeable about Native American traditions.  So though I leapt at the idea to smudge my new home when moving in to a studio that had been inhabited by the tortured soul of an artist in conflict with her landlord, I’m not surprised to learn that I didn’t really know what I was doing.

A friend came and we offered blessings on the … room. (See above reference to “studio.”) While I waved my smoky bunch of sage in the air, I spoke my intentions for each part of the space, to create meals in the kitchen to nourish both body and soul of a visitor, that my desk might be a place for creativity to brew and thoughts to be put to page, that my door might be the way to a place of peace, thoughtful conversations, and belly-laughter.

And I did it WRONG.  I mean, part of me believes there’s no wrong way to put out good intentions.  But the next time I smudge a space with sage, I’d love to follow the guidelines detailed here by Cat Criger, aboriginal elder-in-residence at the University of Toronto.

Why is sage the herb of choice for purifying a place, ridding it of negative energy? Salvia officinalis, or garden sage, is a short, evergreen shrub, a member of the flowering plant Lamiaceae family, and with its grey leaves and bluish-purple flowers, is native to the Mediterranean region.

Sage’s name hints at its nature: sometimes called S. salvatrix (sage the savior), the second half of Salvia officinalis refers to its medicinal use—according to Wikipedia, the officina was the storeroom of a monastery where herbs and medicines were stored.  Historically used to ward off evil, treat snakebites, increase women’s fertility, Pliny the Elder said the plant was called salvia by the Romans, and used as a diuretic, a local anesthetic for the skin, a styptic, among other uses. That plant has a lot to live up to.

Whether you want sage for smudging, to brew, make your own essential oils, or simply add flavor to your food, here’s how to grow your own.

•        Sage thrives in USDA zones 5 – 8, and grows in almost all climates.  If you live in a region with extremely cold winters, you may want to plant in containers, to bring inside during the coldest weeks (months? Let’s say weeks).
•         Plant your sage in full sun or slight shade.
•          Use well-draining soil, and though it grows in a range of soil, it does best in slightly acidic soils, with a pH value of roughly 6.0 to 6.5. (SF Gate)
•       Looking out your window, do you see snow? If so, plan to start your sage from seed 6 – 10 weeks before your last spring frost.
•          If you choose to start your sage from cuttings, SF Gate recommends rooting it using sand and a rooting hormone before transplanting into individual pots. Either seedling or your cutting can then be transplanted to a sunny spot in your garden when your soil has reached 60F, one to two weeks before the last spring frost.  Or, if you are keeping it in the container, move to a sunny spot on your balcony or patio, and be sure that the soil drains well.

How do you use your sage?  Leave a note in the comments, or tell us on Facebook or Twitter: @Rebecca Snavely & @TheCityFarm.

(Photo Credit: Dried Sage, Joene’s Garden)

There aren’t many opportunities for silence these days. Even a walk or jog requires a soundtrack streamed from my iPod to my earbuds, and if I choose to listen to the real soundtrack of my life, it’s usually a cacophony of car noises, the steady hum of a nearby freeway, or the rev of an engine, the honk of a horn, the chirping of birds and barking of a dog defending its territory.  I find myself craving silence, though not carving out space or place for it.

Thinking back on memorable moments of silence, I’m transported to Christmas Eve.  Beyond begging to open just *one* gift before our traditional tearing of wrapping paper on the 25th, I remember counting the hours to the one quiet part of our Christmas custom: a candlelight Christmas Eve service.  We gathered just before midnight, so that as we lit the candle of the person standing beside us and sang an old hymn about a silent night or a holy night and created a sea of blinkey lights in the dark room, we could emerge from the church into that dark first hour of Christmas day. We’d wish each other Merry Christmas, my friends and I exchanging cheap gifts of mall-store jewelry, and head home to not-sleep so that as soon as the sun rose, I could rush out to see what trinkets were left in my stocking.

Though I no longer wake at dawn, and a cup of steaming hot coffee and pancakes heaped with butter and syrup are more my speed on Christmas morning, I still love the times I make it to a Christmas Eve service at a church, relishing in the quiet moment that the song ends and the only sound is of a collective held breath at the magic of hundreds of candles creating a gorgeous glow on the faces of the crowd.

How can we create more moments of silence?  In “A Book of Silence,” Sara Maitland writes that “In our noise-obsessed culture it is very easy to forget just how many of the major physical forces on which we depend are silent — gravity, electricity, light, tides, the unseen and unheard spinning of the whole cosmos. … Organic growth is silent too. Cells divide, sap flows, bacteria multiply, energy runs thrilling through the earth, but without a murmur. … Gardening puts me in contact with all this silent energy; gardeners become active partners in all that silent growth. … The earth works its way under my nails and into my fingerprints, and a gardener has to pay attention to the immediate now of things.”

If December isn’t the best month for you to spend hours in your garden (hello lovely rain storm in L.A.!), you can spend some time with the silence of growing things indoors.  One of my favorite holiday plants is what is commonly called the Amaryllis, but I learned is actually a Hippeastrum, a genus in the family Amaryllidaceae.  (The generic use of “amaryllis” applies to a South African plant, generally grown outdoors.)

According to WhiteFlowerFarm.com, amaryllis that you purchase already potted need only a thorough watering with lukewarm water to begin growing.

• Place the pot where the temperature remains above 60°F. The warmer the temperature (70-80°F night and day is ideal), the faster the bulb will sprout and grow.

• Provide bottom heat (by setting the pot on a propagation mat or on the top of a refrigerator) to help stimulate growth.

• Water only when the top inch of the potting mix is dry.

If you want your bulb to bloom again in a year, it’s important to let it re-build after flowering.

• Cut the flower stalk 3 to 5 inches above the bulb, but do not cut off the leaves.

• Place your plant in a sunny window, and continue your watering habit when the top inch is dry.

• WhiteFlowerFarm recommends fertilizing with a balanced, water-soluble fertilizer once a month, and after the final frost, either moving the pot outdoors or planting the bulb in full sun.

How are you creating space for silence this winter?  Tell us on Twitter @RebeccaSnavely & @TheCityFarm

(Photo Credit: TraditionalHome)