The Sweet Spots of the Fall Garden

For two days I have been cleaning the Fall Garden. The sun was bright, the temps were in the 80's, the chickadees buzzed at me while I worked.  The days bore the euphoria of Indian Summer, but technically cannot be called that as we have not had our first frost.

I fed three wheelbarrows of trimmings and debris to the compost pile.  I cut back late summer bloomers to give sunshine to the foliage of spring bloomers that need a little boost before winter.  A few things begged to be moved to a friendlier spot and so out they came and off they went.  I watered well, having just read of the importance of Fall watering to wintering over.  This is the kind of work I love.  The late September garden is a quiet garden, muted, but there are treasures and even surprises.

 This was my last purchase of the gardening season.  It is a Fall bloomer named Gentian.  In all its true blue glory, it pops!

 My sweet alyssum re-seeds along the patio wall each year.  Some wither and some flourish.  This is ONE alyssum plant that must have liked its location and getting cozy with the red dahlietta.

 I discovered this one little dahlietta blossom hiding in the foliage when I cut my shasta daisy patch back.  I had re-planted last year's dahlietta tubers willy-nilly because the permanent marker wore off the labels over the winter. I had forgotten I even had this one whose yellow is ever so delicately edged in pink.

 My morning glories never blossom until September, so I really appreciate them in the small window of time before frost.

Helenium Bruno is  a true autumn color.  Here is is reaching over to a late blooming stalk of Digitalis.

When my bones and back couldn't take one more task I fixed my tea and took my book to the patio.  One season was pulling me back as another urged me forward.   The sun was beating down on my back, driving me to the shade.  Yet as I looked over at the birdbath I saw yellow and gold leaves floating in the water.

My garden is small.  It is not spectacular.  But on days like this I know that it is just right for me.

Flax, I Love You

In late August I finally found my flax blooming, and doing what it does best - dancing like little ballerinas over other blossoms. Blue Flax (Linum Lewisii) comes with a strong resume - it was discovered and documented by Meriwether Lewis, in whose honor it was named.  It is classified as a tender perennial, but my personal classification would be "extremely tender."   In my garden it rarely comes back.  In my sister's garden 20 minutes south it survives and thrives - just one of those things.  And so I purchase two or three each Spring and hope for the best. I might add that it is not easy to locate them for purchase.  They seem to have lost favor with plant providers, perhaps because they often fail to return.  But Ray Schultz Farm and Greenhouse on Hetcheltown Rd., grows their own plants from seed and they have not been frightened away by flax's delicate nature.  I might add that Schultz's is an all around great nursery - true farmers.

The natural bloom time of flax is late spring. This year's plants were strong, rooted well, sported healthy foliage, but didn't bloom until late summer.  I'm hoping that the energy they invested in establishing strong roots will have wintering-over rewards.  It only blossoms when the sun is shining and I find that it closes up when the sun becomes too hot. It seems to like cool, sunny mornings and evenings. On rare occasions I find that a baby has sprouted from seed cast into the garden by a parent plant.  This is a joy equal to finding a wheat penny in my change purse.   With all its challenges and drawbacks, it is the purest, sweetest shade of blue in my garden.  And that is why I keep inviting it back to my garden party.

White Echinacea

I admit it. I look for trouble.  I'm a garden trouble-seeker and am at my critical worst when we are having supper  on the patio.   I created my garden to be a "hug" around my patio, so there's no escaping dinnertime analysis.  We're surrounded by the good (the saving of the July garden by daylilies), the bad (pruning by rabbit), and the ugly (complete annihalation of climbing rose by Japanese Beetle). I really do try to focus on the positive while munching on my chicken and pasta salad.  The sun has sunk low into the sky by the time we sit down, the light is friendly, the evening birds are saying good night, and overall I am satisfied with that garden hug.  But invariably something will catch my eye that makes me jump up nearly upending the table and say, "WHAT WAS I THINKING???" (GDQ = Garden Drama Queen)  

This evening, for example. I love white echinacea.  It's cousin, pink echinacea is fine, but I really do favor the white.  So I looked at what is pictured below and asked myself, "WHY did I plant it right behind Shasta Daisy where it just gets lost?"  Finding the coneflower in this picture is akin to finding Waldo.

It wasn't bad enough that I did that in one spot, I repeated it in the side garden - right in front of the daisies again (though somehow it's not quite as bothersome here).

The third location was near my Happy Returns re-bloomer where its competition is friendlier. I'm one for three.

And so, before dinner was over and while it was fresh in my mind, I made a beeline into the house for the garden steno pad and added white coneflower to the "must move" list for when the weather cools down.

 I made a discovery this Spring when I wanted to thin out re-seeded echinacea.  The pink re-seeds easily while the white is much slower to do so.  In early Spring all foliage looks the same and I didn't want to pull out any new white starters.  I analyzed the plants very closely and saw that the young pink echinacea plant has a faint streak of red in the stem while the white has a stem of pure green.  Just a little hint that should help me next year.

Sweet Marguerite

Whenever I enter a bookstore that has a magazine section an uncontrollable force pulls me directly to the gardening magazines.  Most of them are alluring enough to take to a nearby chair and flip through.  But I have two favorites that beg to go home with me, Garden Gate and Fine Gardening.  A regular feature I enjoy in Fine Gardening is "Plant This, Not That." It pictures several popular, often used (or over-used) flowers that for one reason or another may fall into disfavor.  And then it pictures a similar plant that the gardener might find is a good substitute.  I'm playing a little bit of that game  in this posting. 

 I have had Coreoposis Grandiflora in my garden for a long time. There is a lot to be said for it.  It is reliable and showy. It re-seeds easily yet can be pulled out just as easily if it become a bit much.  However, I find the shade of gold a bit strong for my liking.  It is also a tedious dead-header.  You can see in the lower left where I need to snip-snip.  In a week this plant could have thirty or forty such has-been knobs. And double, triple, quadruple that for multiple plants.  The plant becomes unsightly and improving its appearance tests my dead-heading patience.  So, what to do? (Because I DO like a smattering of yellow here and there.)

I wanted something that blossomed at the same time, late June, but a little softer in color.  Sister to the rescue!  Last year I admired this flower in her garden and she generously gifted me with two bunches.  The bunny enjoyed one of them to its ultimate destruction, but the other is beginning to flourish.  It is Marguerite Daisy, aka Argyranthemum.  With no offense to Coreopsis, I REALLY LOVE this sweet little blossom.  Isn't it wonderful to find a flower  you really love??  What have you found lately?

Dawn Gets A New Weave

What was I thinking??  I've raised four children, who will all attest to the fact the I gave them too much  oversight.  Too many rules.  Took copious notes at parent teacher conference. Curfews. Job charts.  Thank you notes.  Did I think that my New Dawn Climbing Rose was going to weave itself across the trellis without any help from me?  I, who devoured "The Strong Willed Child" didn't read about how to handle Dawn?  For three years Dawn had been given all the freedom my children had always desired.  And Dawn had gone completely off the rails.  Canes desperate to escape the constraints of Mother Trellis flailed their limbs skyward and sidewards, toward the siding of the house, through the hosta, the wild child with no goals and no self-discipline. (See post and picture for 6/4/14).

It was time for intervention.  And so I finally did what I should have done when I purchased my climbing rose.  I researched.  I learned that horizontal canes will be more productive than vertical canes. For the first time in three years, I followed the instructions for training a climbing rose to the trellis.  Several weeks ago I had drastically trimmed the canes.  By today substantial new growth had occurred allowing me to begin to bend the canes.  Beginning 18-24" from the ground, I bent each cane 45-90 degrees so that it could begin to grow across the trellis in a horizontal direction. I tied each cane to the trelllis at the point where it bent and at the end of the cane.  When the canes reach the other side of the trellis I will train them to go back.  Back and forth, back and forth.  Once the first few canes were tied  into place the others became easier because I could weave them into the tied canes.  I paid with pain. I couldn't wear gloves and still tie proper knots in the strings, so Dawn exacted her revenge with plenty of pokes.

And just like with the children, I believe that somewhere deep inside, this rose wanted rules and a bit of structure.

Columbine

I love columbine season.  Over the winter they are secretly reseeding and planning surprises for the June garden.  

This was my biggest surprise.  I never planted this.  Of this I am certain because it is in the middle of the sun garden and I always plant columbine in part shade.  I have no idea where it came from.  Did it blow it from afar?  Was it a stowaway seed in an unrelated nursery purchase? When it finally bloomed and revealed its beauty to me I was amazed at its size. So incredulous that I had to take my ruler outside.  The blossoms are 4" across.

Can pink be any softer??  I love this one.  Though it is downward facing I think it must be because it likes looking at its companion, a small and prolific multi-petaled columbine whose name I do not know.

As they say in Real Estate, "Location, location, location.  I put my new columbine, "Songbird Cardinal," in front of the deep purple Tradescantia, (the Latin name is so much better than its common name, Spiderwort, isn't it?)

Hands down, this one gets this award for the sweetest columbine in the garden.  A friend (whose gardening friendship goes back 35 years!) gave me the plant last Fall and I had no idea what it would turn out to be. And here she is, one small and delicate blossom.  I hope she is planning surprises for me for next Spring.  Who knows were she will re-appear?