Cactus Garden

IN a world of numbing moderation, there is, luckily, Al Richter. The Glendora homeowner believes that if a thing is worth doing, it's worth overdoing. "If I like something, I really go overboard," admits the tall, seventysomething, still-rugged retired business owner. It's not hard to figure out one of Richter's extreme tendencies as he strides over to a giant tangle of lime-green limbs rippling and swimming for the sky.

It was a Sunday afternoon in 1974 when a black-suited Claretian missionary known as Father Pat walked into the monthly meeting of the Long Beach Cactus Club looking to make a deal. Turn the sunny dirt patch next to his home at Dominguez Rancho Adobe into a cactus garden, Father Patrick McPolin said, and you can use the state historic site's carriage house for all of your future meetings. Members of the club, who had been convening in a small room at the Angelo M. Iacoboni Library in Lakewood, didn't think twice.

The following is from "The Huntington Botanical Gardens 1905-1949: Personal Recollections of William Hertrich," by William Hertrich, published this spring. Hertrich was superintendent of the estate of Henry E. Huntington and curator of the botanical gardens. The cactus garden of the Huntington Botanical Gardens is now the largest outdoor grouping of mature specimens in the United States.

Steve Bowdoin can't hide presents under the teddy-bear cholla cactuses, at least not without getting pricked. He can't hang bulbs on the golden barrels or top the agave plants with stars. The 32-foot-tall saguaro cactus nicknamed "Grandpa" is magnificent, but it can't anchor a family room on Christmas morning. That's OK. Unlike the pines and Douglas firs bedecking most casinos and malls here -- including a 109-foot wonder that's among the nation's tallest -- Bowdoin's holiday display actually embraces the arid Mojave: three acres with 300 species of desert plants wrapped in half a million twinkling lights.

After years of writing and producing TV cop shows such as "Hill Street Blues" and "Miami Vice," novelist Robert Ward at last has done the seemingly obvious. He has written a hardcover cop thriller set mainly in star-crossed Los Angeles. Yet despite his Hollywood record, this fifth novel represents a big literary shift for Ward, who in previous books has gotten no closer to Tinseltown--in almost any sense--than Big Sur. In fact, his chief locale until now has been lower-middle-class Baltimore, where modest dreams crack like crab shells, and booze, drugs, crime and sports chatter fill the blue-collar void.

I was delighted to see the in-depth article on our historic adobe ("Historic Adobe Flores . . . " by Loretta Schertz Keller, Times, May 16), and I have been very pleased with the loving care (owner) Mr. (Wallace Robert) McCloskey has given the house. How well I remember the day the large azaleas were ripped out and carted away before the groundbreaking for the new apartments. A tearful spectacle and one that few neighbors were alerted about, and those who were didn't spread the word about the disastrous happening about to take place.

After standing at the corner of El Casco Street and De Santis Avenue for 18 months, forced to look at a weed-choked dirt lot, school crossing guard Joan Tschaeche decided to improve her work environment. Tschaeche asked El Dorado Elementary School Principal Dolores Palacio for permission to plow up the 27-by-37-foot lot on school property. On Wednesday, Tschaeche, joined by half a dozen students of her alma mater, watched as a cactus garden took shape.

When Martin Colver suggested installing a cactus garden in an unused area of his parent's Costa Mesa backyard, his father, Frank, was uncertain. Planting the cactus would mean removing a 25-year-old pomegranate tree. Once his son installed the garden, however, Colver's reservations quickly disappeared. "The resulting garden is really worthwhile," said Frank Colver. "Until my son put the cactus garden in, we rarely used that space. Now we sit out there more than any other area of the yard.

It was a Sunday afternoon in 1974 when a black-suited Claretian missionary known as Father Pat walked into the monthly meeting of the Long Beach Cactus Club looking to make a deal. Turn the sunny dirt patch next to his home at Dominguez Rancho Adobe into a cactus garden, Father Patrick McPolin said, and you can use the state historic site's carriage house for all of your future meetings. Members of the club, who had been convening in a small room at the Angelo M. Iacoboni Library in Lakewood, didn't think twice.

Steve Bowdoin can't hide presents under the teddy-bear cholla cactuses, at least not without getting pricked. He can't hang bulbs on the golden barrels or top the agave plants with stars. The 32-foot-tall saguaro cactus nicknamed "Grandpa" is magnificent, but it can't anchor a family room on Christmas morning. That's OK. Unlike the pines and Douglas firs bedecking most casinos and malls here -- including a 109-foot wonder that's among the nation's tallest -- Bowdoin's holiday display actually embraces the arid Mojave: three acres with 300 species of desert plants wrapped in half a million twinkling lights.

A simple scan of songwriter-artist-video director-designer Allee Willis' home is visual rhapsody. A plastic Mr. T piggy bank circa 1983 with painted-on yellow bling is perched on a shelf in the rec room. A pink magazine rack of spun spaghetti metal, made to look like a poodle, is positioned between a pair of shaggy pink couches covered in plastic. On a side table is a squished beer bottle disguised as an ashtray, which renders the colloquialism "Sock it to me" in psychedelic blue. A bottle of Farrah Fawcett creme rinse and conditioner by Fabergé is nearby.

IN a world of numbing moderation, there is, luckily, Al Richter. The Glendora homeowner believes that if a thing is worth doing, it's worth overdoing. "If I like something, I really go overboard," admits the tall, seventysomething, still-rugged retired business owner. It's not hard to figure out one of Richter's extreme tendencies as he strides over to a giant tangle of lime-green limbs rippling and swimming for the sky.

All of Lotusland--the private-now-public garden in Montecito that was the personal canvas of longtime owner Ganna Walska--is a gallery of artistic statements, and now Salvador Dali has his corner. The surreal look of 300 varieties of cactus rising from a sea of slate in this undulating acre prompted landscape designer Eric Nagelmann to pronounce his finished work Dali in the Desert.

It's a tough call whether Lotusland is a garden, a museum or a flight of fancy. Filled with a forest of dragon trees that bleed red sap, Indian lotus plants with leaves as big as elephant ears, and a world-class collection of primitive plants that date from the days of the dinosaurs, it's probably all three.

When Martin Colver suggested installing a cactus garden in an unused area of his parent's Costa Mesa backyard, his father, Frank, was uncertain. Planting the cactus would mean removing a 25-year-old pomegranate tree. Once his son installed the garden, however, Colver's reservations quickly disappeared. "The resulting garden is really worthwhile," said Frank Colver. "Until my son put the cactus garden in, we rarely used that space. Now we sit out there more than any other area of the yard.

After years of writing and producing TV cop shows such as "Hill Street Blues" and "Miami Vice," novelist Robert Ward at last has done the seemingly obvious. He has written a hardcover cop thriller set mainly in star-crossed Los Angeles. Yet despite his Hollywood record, this fifth novel represents a big literary shift for Ward, who in previous books has gotten no closer to Tinseltown--in almost any sense--than Big Sur. In fact, his chief locale until now has been lower-middle-class Baltimore, where modest dreams crack like crab shells, and booze, drugs, crime and sports chatter fill the blue-collar void.

"We like to listen to the oldies and the goodies on the radio," Muriel Koch said. "When Steven and I were married in the '40s, we didn't even have a radio." The Koches were reflecting on their new life. Late in June, after divorcing almost 40 years ago, they once again became husband and wife. Their reunion came about after their daughter, Lynette of Gilman Hot Springs in Riverside County, and son, Bob of Cypress, had searched many years for their father.

Imagine waking up on a Sunday morning and seeing that your yard looks like Kuwait's landscape. Imagine also that your yard is one of the largest in San Diego County. Imagine further that thousands of guests are expected in just a few weeks. Imagine yet further that water is so scarce you can't get a martini on the rocks. If your name is Steve Wightman, you do not need much of an imagination to envision such a scenario. This is real-life stuff to him.

After standing at the corner of El Casco Street and De Santis Avenue for 18 months, forced to look at a weed-choked dirt lot, school crossing guard Joan Tschaeche decided to improve her work environment. Tschaeche asked El Dorado Elementary School Principal Dolores Palacio for permission to plow up the 27-by-37-foot lot on school property. On Wednesday, Tschaeche, joined by half a dozen students of her alma mater, watched as a cactus garden took shape.

Looking for attractive landscape plants that are easy to care for,don't need much water, have spectacular flowers, aren't bothered by many pests and rarely need to be pruned? Cacti are your answer. "Cacti are almost like art sculptures," says Stanlee Phelps of Laguna Hills, who has a container cactus garden in her front walkway. "Set potted cacti against a light-colored wall and you have a dramatic contrast." Many cacti also have breathtaking flowers in a variety of striking colors.