Propagating Mussaenda Philippica var. aurorae

My dear late mother has always wanted to propagate this particular tree planted in the garden. It is a medium-sized tree with white colored bracts surrounding smaller yellow flowers. Her rehab doctor, who just so happened to be our neighbor, had inquired previously how to propagate it when we were regularly going to physiotherapy. My mother tasked me to propagate it, but I had no idea how at the time. The tree looks pretty enough, with the white leaves making it look like it's full of white flowers, when in fact the real flowers are very small yellow ones.

Mussaenda Philippica white bracts and yellow flowers.

After a brief search, I learned that the tree is called Mussaenda Philippica var. aurorae, or nicknamed Doña Aurora after Aurora Quezon, the then-first lady of former President Manuel L. Quezon. It is one of the few ornamentals favored by landscapers that are actually indigenous to the country. There is also a version with rosy pink bracts (var. Doña Luz) which I occasionally see in home gardens.

I will try to propagate from cuttings and via air-layering. I will see whether I have any luck with either method. A quick web search tells me that the most common way of propagation is through cuttings, but air layering can produce a faster-growing clone.

Before I can do any of that, I need to remove a balete (strangler fig) that has somehow attached to the upper part of the tree. My father might have placed it there on purpose since he has been playing a lot with baletes as an easy way to make bonsai. It has taken over most of the branch it has grown on, and since I had to trim the main tree to prepare for a particularly strong typhoon, I am concerned that it will eventually kill the host.

I have a lot of plans for the garden in the coming months, and I am excited to execute those plans gradually. Of course, I will be posting updates when they come.

Mussaenda Philippica var. aurorae seen in a landscaping setting at Iloilo Memorial Park.

Bignay Season

Clusters of bignay fruit.

I vaguely recall my mother once telling me years ago that the tree in our backyard was a bignay tree (Antidesma bunius). I tucked that detail away and forgot about it, until recently, when the tree suddenly bore fruit after decades of silence. By my estimate, it’s more than twenty years old. The only explanation I can think of is that a nearby male bignay finally matured, allowing local pollinators to do their work. Since bignay is dioecious, it needs both male and female trees to reproduce.

Although I don’t encounter bignay often, it isn’t entirely unfamiliar. I could see trees heavy with clusters of red-to-dark purple fruit in my neighborhood in Quezon City, near La Mesa Eco Park. As a designated biodiversity center, the park likely planted bignay deliberately to support wildlife and enrich the watershed.

I harvest the ripe fruits little by little since they do not all ripen at the same time. I keep the ripe fruits in a container and freeze them. That way, I can keep them fresh without getting past their prime.

Now, with my first harvest in hand, I’m not quite sure what to do. Part of me wants to experiment, perhaps a small fermentation trial using wild yeast, or maybe make vinegar out of it. I don't really want to bother picking the fruits that are high up ion the tree since I only have a short ladder and I don't think the branches of the tree are that sturdy. I will just gather whatever I can and make the most of what I have. Hopefully, this will be the start of a yearly tradition of making something from my bignay harvest.

I also plan to try propagating from seed, just to see if I can. It feels like a fitting way to honor a tree that has waited so long to surprise me. Wish me luck.

Ripe bignay fruits (for freezing).

*** Edit: I have learned 2 new names for this fruit from a friend. They are also called Dinog and Inyam. 😋

The Calamansi I Planted from Seed is Finally Flowering

Calamansi flowers.

I planted this calamansi from seed way back in 2022, and after nearly four years of patient waiting, it has finally begun to flower and bear fruit. The sight of tiny buds emerging with the arrival of the rains after this year’s harsh summer filled me with hope. At long last, I’ll have a fruiting calamansi tree right in my garden, ready to provide fresh fruits whenever I need them (assuming they fruit year-round).

Calamansi has such a short shelf-life that buying them from the supermarket often ends in disappointment, as they shrivel and dry up before I can use them all. Having my own tree in the garden means I can simply pick a few straight from the branch, talk about self-sufficiency and convenience! I've always had this dream of growing and using produce from my own garden. Not on a scale to be totally off the grid, but enough that I can proudly say I can partially source what I eat from what I grow. 

I recall planting several seeds at the same time as this one, even experimenting with a hydroponic setup. That setup didn't last very long (I also wasn't able to maintain it over the years), so I needed to transfer the hydroponically grown plants into soil. Sadly, the rest of the batch didn’t survive the transition back to soil.

The sight brings back memories of my grandmother’s orchard, where rows upon rows of calamansi trees thrived. She would sell the fruit in the local market, and with the surplus she made sweetened calamansi concentrate and jams. I don’t have the space to grow an orchard of that scale, but I look forward to my first harvest, however modest.

Immature calamansi fruit. 

Sampaguita Identification

It has been raining a lot lately, and the plants in the garden seem to be enjoying the end of the scorching summer. One of the things that I have noticed over the past couple of days is that whenever I go out to the garden at night to feed the outside cats, I have smelled whiffs of a fragrant scent not unlike that of sampaguitas. The garden is currently overrun with vines from this very aggressively growing weed with fruits resembling miniature cucumbers, so I was not able to notice the flowers. After clearing most of the weeds out, I discovered that the sampaguita (or what I always thought of as sampaguita) was in full bloom with a lot more buds underway.

Identity crisis?

I showed the flower to a friend, and he confidently stated that the flowers are in fact not sampaguita (Jasminum sambac) but a Philippine rosal (Gardenia jasminoides) or a gardenia, just based on the appearance. After doing a bit of research and looking at various YouTube clips, I have come to the conclusion that the flowers outside are sampaguitas after all. Specifically, they are of the variety called Grand Duke of Tuscany or Kampupot locally. They are double-petaled, rosette-like form of the sampaguita, which resembles miniature white roses. Thanks to this particular rabbit hole, I now know what petioles are and how to identify petiolate and sessile leaflets.