Quieter Days of Autumn

Having waxed melodramatic on the subject of my autumn clematis in a recent post, I'm reluctantly ready to "dial it down a notch." My divisions are......... done. As I tend to the tasks remaining, it's all so quiet, so crackly, so peaceful, so thought provoking. Ghosts of this year's garden are my silent partners. Brittle seed pods, green leaves turning purple, the brown stalks that the daylily plants are so eager to release, the yellow nasturtium just daring the frost to nip it away, the burning bush now clashing with a neighbor it found companionable a few weeks ago....to everything there is a season. And so it is with these posts. I will not go away. (But I may be a little calmer!) The quiet season will afford me opportunities to share an occasional thought, follow an impulse, and perhaps to recommend books I enjoy, like this one.

Two Gardeners - A Friendship in Letters is an mmmmmm read for anyone who loves to write, read and garden. Funny how those three things seems to pop up in the same person so often! Katherine White was a legendary editor and garden columnist at the New Yorker Magazine. A beautiful friendship began when Elizabeth Lawrence, another noted garden writer sent a letter of encouragement to Ms. White. Over the next twenty years they exchanged letters, seeds, suggestions, catalogues, concerns about each other's health, and sentiments of the gardener's heart. The ideas they shared with each other they now share with us, the readers. Tomorrow after I make sure all my changes are entered on my garden map I'll drag the Adirondack chair to a place in the sun where I can put my feet up on the stone wall. Lulled by the lazy cricket sounds at the edge of the crisping woods, I'll escape into this book again. Maybe, just maybe, I'll look past the page to the garden and despite all the challenges and setbacks will be able to say, "Well done, Lauri."

Mums and Remembrance

Exactly ten years ago I was driving down a country road on a most beautiful morning anticipating the purchase of six pots of mums to set on the old milk cart in the front of my home. On the car radio I heard that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. I continued on my mission, believing it was a small and errant commuter plane. By the time my car was colorful with mums I knew the horrible truth of September 11. It wasn't until much later that afternoon that I even took the mums from the car under an eerily quiet sky that was accustomed to regular air traffic. I remember that it seemed wrong to be doing something so trivial when our nation was in such a grave situation. Yet as I look back I see it as my small way of bringing light to a very dark world. Today was a mum day again.

I've always set pots of mums on a cart, watered until I grew careless, then chopped them up for November's compost. I have NEVER planted a mum! Their reputation as poor winter hibernators precedes them. I recently read an article that made me believe I could do it. Planting instructions were to 1) Buy Belgian 2) Buy plants in bud, not bloom 3) Plant early 4) Soak the roots first. I removed from along the walk the petunias that are tired of "waving," and gave to the Angelonia and Victoria Blue Salvia the job of complementing the mums. Planting six mums took over ninety minutes because of the tedium of teasing the roots from the root ball and because of the care needed to avoid snapping off brittle stems (score - minus one). I handled them like newborn babies. But I'm glad I'm trying something new. When September turns to October, they should be in full bloom. And on this tenth anniversary, they did their part to brighten a sad day.

Autumn Clematis, Autumn Delight

The Autumn Clematis has astounded and delighted me more than any other perennial in the garden this year. In a rare and gasping moment I realized that I finally have a plant that looks as lush in my garden as it did when it first caught my eye in a catalogue. I planted it one year ago, it climbs and climbs, blooms its heart out, and says every day of it's late summer life, "I love you for buying me!" It is Mother Nature's bridal bouquet, heavy laden upon the trellis. A word about the trellis.... my new bare bones garden/patio was in great need of a focal point when our home was built three years ago. My brother had recently purchased an older home that had a beautiful, old picket fence and trellis in the backyard. He called one day to ask if I could use the trellis which wasn't fitting in with the plan for his yard. Rarely have I jumped upon an offer with such enthusiasm. Once gracing an older garden owned by people unknown to me, passed on to me by Henry, transported in our handy old red van , carefully installed by Hank, it has found a good home on its sentimental journey. Today I noticed the first blossom of a late blooming morning glory climbing up the other side. It's a new variety for me, softer than the "heavenly blue" variety, just an experiment. Soon the two vines will meet at the top and there will be a real occasion for that bridal bouquet. Now those are the kind of garden weddings I love to attend!