Boo!

     

I snapped this picture just before Jack Frost crept in to kiss my annuals good-bye.   The temps had not dropped below 36 all season until last night when the mercury plummeted to 22, affording very little chance for annuals to survive.  But it is time.  I almost finished all the Autumn chores before Jack's deadline.  Tomorrow I will put away my garden accents and dig up the dahlia tubers for storage.  My back is aching and ready for winter's rest.  My cardboard carton of garden clippings, notes to self, magazines, garden maps, plant labels etc is in total disarray.  There will be many chilly nights ahead for bringing order there.  As a schoolteacher, I loved my work, but looked forward to summer as a time to renew my energy for another year. There was a rhythm there.  And so it is with gardening.  But March will find me poking around where the snow has receded to see if the helleborus likes the spot I moved it to.  And so will begin another season.........

Autumn sighs

 In September we drove to Acadia National Park in Maine.  The sunset from Cadillac Mountain was singularly the most breathtaking natural sight I have ever seen.  Just something about being one of the first in the country to see the dawning of another glorious day...............

Everything about our trip through Northern New England was perfect except for the moment that I dropped my camera on the pavement, smashing the lens.  We replaced the camera rather quickly with a shatterproof update.  But apparently I find gardening guides much more enjoyable and easier to follow than gadget guides;  absence from my blog has been a long one as I attempt to get back to snapping garden pics.  

It has been an autumn for large projects and small projects.  The area pictured below had become painful to look at.  Between "settling" and the lack of a back support for this sloped area, the soil level had sunk far below the wall.  I removed all the plants from the area.  Hank made a most informal wall of bricks along the  back and delivered from my secret supply of dirt five wheelbarrows full of the good stuff.  I reduced the size of the generously spreading dainthus and cerastium and re-planted them in their new level area, along with their neighbors, alchimella, daylily, veronica, and flax.  But the job was not complete until I set my sentimental "Falls Village limestone" back in its proper spot.

I have often said to my children as I marched them upstairs to clean their rooms, "And if it doesn't get worse before it gets better you're not doing a good job!" That personal maxim of mine also applies to big garden projects such as the one pictured below.There had been three mop-head hydrangea just below the windows of our back porch. They had outgrown their space and were smothering the perennials with their four year growth heavy laden with 12 inch blossom heads.  Hank relocated two of them to the back yard (I told him that every horseshoe pit needs hydrangea accents). The largest remaining one was hatcheted into three sections and replanted those in the original spots. All put back together now....hope I haven't led a mass execution of hydrangea.

The window of opportunity for garden work is quickly closing.  Today's tasks were pleasurable.  I planted 38 Ice Follie Daffodil bulbs and 12 very sweet Barrett Browning Daffodils.  Then I continued the task of cutting back perennials to basal growth and cleaning up the gardens.  The compost almost audibly thanked me for the delicious dinner of hosta leaves and stems.

And finally, I did a walk-about, snipping one of every variety that is singing its last song.

The Waning August Garden

The August garden is showing signs of fatigue, but still has enough energy to sport a a blossom here and there.  I'm sharing two favorite August perennials whose colors never fail to give me notice that  Autumn is on the way.  The first is "Sienna Sunset" coreopsis.  Have two, wanted one more in an area of the garden whose palette of color is depleted by August.   Because all branches seem to come from one central root, they are not good candidates for division.  I keep lifting their petticoats to see if there is any logical point of division.  But no.  Because it is not as common as "moonbeam" I didn't dare hope that I would find one to put in this Fall.  But a spontaneous-almost-dangerous hard right at Hewitt's Garden Center lead right to a  healthy one at half price.  EASY SELL - my car danced out of the parking lot.

My other favorite has been with me for a long time, following me from garden to garden.  Here is my faithful Helenium "Bruno."  I do fuss a bit with this early in the season, so that it doesn't get too stalky.  I pinch it back twice before the Fourth of July for fullness, and pinch in tiers so that all the blossoms won't be at the tippy-top.

A  few daylilies are still putting forth blossoms, but they are now relinquishing their "moment" to the zinnias that have been assigned the job of carrying over the season.

The annuals leading to the front door have miraculously survived their given spot of beat-down brutal heat along a concrete southern exposure entry. I have a lovely neighbor who waters them for me when I am gone and I'm quite convinced these annuals like her better than me!

After a period of dormancy in the heat, New Dawn Climbing Rose decided to give me just a few more late season buds, one atop the trellis, and one overlooking the zinnia and Moonflower below the trelllis.

And I end with a "heartfelt" message from the vegetable garden - two cherry tomatoes that grew together to form a heart.  I love my fellow gardeners!

Just One Basket

     I am posting this picture of the one successful container planting I have created in my lifetime because it may never happen again.  It must be like that knit/crochet thing.  The person who knits can't crochet.  The person who crochets can't knit.  Likewise, while I may experience some success with outdoor gardens, for me to put anything in a pot is to doom it to death, either instant, or slow and tortuous. (This also applies to houseplants, for which I serve only as a mortician.)  On the rare occasion that I amble through a nursery looking for something to grow in a pot or planter, I can feel the plants shrinking back, saying "Please don't pick me, don't pick me!!!"  They seem to know their days of sporting lovely blossoms on a mound of glossy green foliage are numbered if they go home with me.  I kept my expectations low when I started this basket as an accent for my porch.  I must have chosen exceptionally tolerant and forgiving plants because it has astounded and delighted me by its insistence upon, well, LIVING!!  It is a mixture of cascading bocapa, purple browallia, impatiens and a little peek of begonia.  Maybe it just likes that daughter K. gave me a framed bible verse as an accent.  Or that it is responding to sitting atop an antique N.Y.C. Wanamaker's crate that came from my grandmother.  Even if it dies the instant I hit "publish" to my blog, at the ripe old age of three months it will be the longest living arrangement I've ever had.  

Two Mysteries

I'm looking to my readers to solve two mysteries for me.  Any help would be greatly appreciated.

Sister E. added this to my garden last year.  It blooms now (late July to August).  Its delicate blossom is 3" across.  Its foliage is similar to blackberry lily and toad lily. I'm quite certain it is of the iridaceae (iris) family.  I'm a-swoon over it but would LOVE to know the exact name.

This is my moonflower. It shows off huge trumpets at night, just beneath my trellis.  By the end of the season it will have filled in the base of the  trellis with a blossom-loaded vine.  I had this annual once before and it released a heavenly scent which made sitting in the night garden most pleasurable.  The descriptions usually boast about the scent.  But this year's purchase has all the aromatic allure of styrofoam.  Next year I want to be sure I get the variety with the added bonus of perfume.  Anyone know if there are two different descriptions for this and what I should look for next year?

Astrantia

 Any combination of cream and pink pulls me like a magnet.  (I believe Helleborus Royal Heritage started me down that cream/pink/green road when I was at a Mother/Daughter week-end with Emily at St. Mary's College many years ago.)  It took me a long time to discover Astrantia, pictured here in the 'Roma' strain. I hadn't heard of it until a year or so ago.  I loved it the instant I put it in my shade garden.  It blooms in early summer. The foliage stays green,  if offers boundless blossoms and the plant grows each year without becoming invasive. It's one of those flowers that brings peace and contentment when I hold it in my gaze.  And makes me wonder what took me so long to make the discovery!