making room for new flowers

When I want to buy new plants (which is a big weakness of mine) I don't have room to put them anywhere. If anything, I should be weeding out plants to make my garden less messy looking, more controled. But the plants keep reproducing and I feel like a murderer when I destroy a plant. Instead, I make more beds. My newest bed started as three clumps of hosta. I had a mad impulse to make a new bed because a new peony arrived by mail order, and I had no place to put it.





Instead of weeding my present beds, I decided to start digging. After much huffing and puffing, I had a bed. Shapes aren't usually hard to design, but this time I wanted a straight back so It would be easier to mow. That left me with no ideas of how to shape the rest of it. The bed ended up looking like boot, which is pretty bad. In the end, I just expanded it to an oval 11 feet by 6. Unimaginative, but it will look good once it's full of new plants.
Next spring, it will be full of bulbs and perennials, and I will be looking for more space to grow!

The colours and critters of fall

Fall is a time when plants slowly come to a stop. The annuals are on the brink of dying, and the perennials are losing their leaves, preparing for a long winter's sleep. But before they go, they put on quite a show.
Staghorn sumac is unsurpassed for fall colour. I call it the poor man's japanese maple. It's the first tree to show its colours. As a kid, I used to press sumac leaves between the pages of a book, hoping to hang on to those sunset reds and oranges forever. Like the expensive, often winter killed Japanese maple, it's a small tree which can become artfully twisted or arched, but it's as tough as nails and free, if you dig one up from the wild or are lucky enough to have it appear on your property.






My zebra grass has been in my garden for many years, and has bloomed for the first time ever. Shining silvery seed heads move with every puff of wind.




Meanwhile, a single ladybug clings to a seed head of feather reed grass, hoping to find a spot of cosy leaf litter to spend the winter.





And a dark-eyed junco feasts on the seeds of liatris and rudbeckia. Birds don't sit still and pose like plants and bugs do, so it's much more of a challenge to get a good shot. I'll keep trying, though. It's certainly worth it.

Fabulous October

It's October, and the weather is just getting better. The days are sunny and warm, and it feels like the good times will never end. After keeping a low profile all summer, the chickadees are back. They just love the tiny ripe seeds from the many-headed sunflower that popped up unannounced in my garden this year. These birds swoop in, peck for a few seconds, and then they're gone. I've always wondered about the energy they waste with all that movement, but I suppose if they stayed put for too long, they would be an easy target for predators.






Here are the beans that just won't quit. Even though it's October, these green bush beans called Valentino are still providing a nice meal every two days. And if I had planted them further apart, I'd be getting even more.
Next year I swear I'll be the perfect gardener.

Tomato strategy

I have a bumper crop of Roma tomatos this year, but they are taking longer to ripen than they should. That's because I planted them way too close together, and they are not getting the sun and air circulation they need. I should know better, and I hope next year I will plant smarter. I always try to cram too much into my 20 x 50 foot plot. At this time of year, the beans, which were also planted too close together, are crowded right beside the tomatos. The rest of the garden is bare because it's all been harvested. Next year, I swear to forget about planting peas. They take up a lot of space for a small return (but they're so good!). I will plant things further apart so they will ripen more evenly and be easier to pick.
When I harvest my tomatoes, I pick everything with even a hint of red, and let them ripen inside on a windowsill. Why don't I let them ripen on the vine?
Check this out. My ripe tomatos have been hit by late blight, rotted on the ground, or chewed and hollowed out by slugs. Underripe tomatos redden up quickly in the warmth of the house, and it beats the alternative of leaving them to fend for themselves in the wilds of the great outdoors.