Winter in this area is rainy and cool, which is just fine by many plants. Camellias are one of my favorites. This one is three years old and growing slowly. They bloom as early as September and as late as June, but it's the December to March ones that I adore. In addition to having beautiful flowers in the depth of winter, they are nearly carefree once established

Colors are basically white, pink, and red, with various shadings and occasional variagated combinations. There are a wide variety of flower shapes: singles, doubles, rose form, peony form, and more. This one, I believe, is called the 'formal' form. To see a truly astonishing collection of camellias, visit the Huntington Library and Gardens in Pasadena in February or so. Magnificent.

Primroses of all sorts are another winter stalwart, along with pansies and stock. This past January was so wet and continuously overcast, though, that only these fairy primroses did really well. Um, have I mentioned snails and slugs yet? It was prime slug weather. Billions of tiny baby slugs, too small even to hand-pick! Things improved when the sun returned in February.

California poppies start appearing in late winter/early spring. They look so tender and delicate that I used to cherish every tiny seedling I found. I soon learned, however, that those innocuous little seedlings grow a mass 2 to 3 feet, smothering any unwary nearby plants. So I've been encouraging them to form a border by the patio (read, ruthlessly weeding out any not in said region) where they can sprawl to their hearts' content.

In theory, our mild winter and long spring should be great for growing cool-season vegetables, like peas, lettuce, and beets. In practice, well, I'm still trying to get the hang of it. In particular, I need to distinguish better between rain threatened and rain received. I know I need to water in the summer (not that I always remember to, mind you). But this spring-time transition where I suddenly realize that we haven't actually had any rain for the past 3 weeks and that maybe I ought to water . . . well, let's just say that most of the lettuce noticed before I did. At least my peas are still alive!