On the west side of the garden just off the deck, the land is on a slope. As an experiment, and using cosmetic ads as imagery, I planted it like a meadow with daisies, foxgloves, lupin, perennial lineria and other meadow like flowers. Looking out from the deck the effect was wonderful. The problem that came up was deadheading. With the plants so close together it was impossible to deadhead without stepping on the flowers close by. To get by this problem, I constructed three terraces with a path behind each one. That made the plants accessible.
With the terraces in place deadheading is no problem.
The terraces are pulled out with a grape-hoe and supported with oak and bay logs. They last 8 to 10 years.
Fall makes me think of Ecclesiastes 3 that states;
To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven. A time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted.
I have also heard this sacred truth stated this way;
Gardening is like working burlesque. Timing is everything.
But no matter how you say it, it's time to plant bulbs for spring and to harvest what was planted last spring.
Squash And PumpkinRed Peppers
And there is a time for taking pictures.
This picture was taken around 6 AM. The early morning light made a blue haze that intensified the color of the flowers.
When the deep purple falls, over sleepy garden walls, you can get a picture of a collarette dahlia with purple shadows.
It's time to start putting the roses to sleep for the winter. The Marin Rose Society recommends having the roses cut back no later than the end of December. The purpose is to give the roses a dormant period that strengthens them for the next years growth.
In the past, when the last rose of the year bloomed, it was regarded with great sentiment. Thomas Moore wrote a poem about it called,
The Last Rose Of Summer.
The poem was set to music and became a popular song. It was sung in concerts and by Irish tenors and by families standing around the piano. It became an aria in Friedrich Von Flotow's opera, Martha.
And my mother often used the line as a descriptive phrase. She would say, in an unflattering tone of voice,
"Well if she doesn't look like the last rose of summer."
Back in two weeks.