It’s all about the little things again. Yesterday Gail spotted an adorable flock of Cedar Waxwings feasting on inchworms and pooping on me (nailed twice, lucky me!) and today Gioia spied the Oriole sweetly serenading as we weeded the Display Garden. I was also lucky enough to spot this little guy today hunkered down against the wind (it’s blowing a gale out there!). Anyone know if it is what it looks like? - I think it must be a new baby dragonfly. (click on pictures for a larger view)

We’re shifting our focus this week from planting to weeding.

It happens every year like a bomb went off - last week’s rain sparked a flash flood of seedlings that are all of a sudden big enough for us to name (with names like “a weed” and “not-a-weed”).

It takes practice to recognize the wants and the don’t wants and patience to extract them from each other. Some of us would like to take a hoe and wipe out the whole lot and start fresh but others of us enjoy the surprises and the challenge. The cutting garden is full of volunteer annuals (and we love our volunteers almost as much as we love our volunteer weeders) like Snow on the mountain (Euphorbia marginata), Bupleurum, Papaver somniferum ‘Peony Flowered’ and in the North Garden we came across some cosmos and bachelor buttons amongst our usual thugish favorites like Milkweed (Asclepias). Occasionally, sometimes, every now and then, even we don’t recognize a weed when we see it - Gail sighs, “Professional horticulturists that we are…” and shakes her head in dismay. We let some things become specimen-sized before we yank them out with a hot blush of embarrassment (”yikes! Hope nobody noticed that!”) or we’ll miss something completely until it’s a suddenly giant horsy thumb poking up out of the back row. We hope that visitors see the humor too… How well do you know your seedlings?

Is it long winter’s naptime yet? I’m bushed tuckered pasted wasted fried asleep on my feet! The gardens are done. Pretty much. Mostly! And we can cross more off of Gail’s to-do list. Yesterday the Florabundas came in for a last go through of the Rose and North Gardens. We weeded and cut the dead out of the roses. The weather isn’t reliably cold enough yet for us to be sure the roses are totally done growing (and there are still bloomable buds) so we decided to wait to do the winter whipping-cane cut back. The North Garden is ready for bed - we gave the Nepeta a little haircut, the Geranium ‘Rozanne’ a trim, cut the wall ivy back out of the beds and took the dead out of the Rosa ‘Ballerina’s too. Gail and I went back to do a little futzing around with daylilies - why are they never in quite the right spot? - and then pronounced that garden “done”. (wahoo!) Today Gail and I relocated more Idea Bed plants to the newer Display Garden beds because it’s looking more and more likely that Fred and Dan will be able to get started on phase 2 of the redesign this winter (wahoo times two!). I’m sorry I don’t have illustrations of this week’s work - it was chilly and busy and aside from perhaps my last praying mantis portrait of the season (it was a frosty day slow mover on the most robust ‘Rozanne’ ever) I kept forgetting that I should be documenting all the activity!

Next week we’ll be inside decorating the front hall christmas tree (it’s an 18′-er - and yours truly will have tree top scaffold duty. I will remember to take pictures from up there!) and we’ll be attending the Garden Design Luncheon on Thursday. Have you signed up yet? I’m going to work on getting my fingernails clean as soon as I have a little lie-down first…

No doubt about it, Blithewold’s fairies are Red Sox fans. They set up this satellite dish in time to catch the World Series and no one but this toadstool was out and about this morning after last night’s fairy celebratory revelry. We believe!

It’s somehow fitting that last night was also the first night that the heat kicked on at my house. I always keep the heat set low over the winter to save energy. The folks who work in the mansion here at Blithewold know what conservation feels like too - it’s chilly! I want to share a gardener’s little trick for how to feel warm this winter: Go outside!! Everyone who came into the potting shed this morning (including me) said “whoa - it’s toasty in here!” It was 61 degrees F inside!

Decked out in a stocking cap, scarf and polartec (I love the accessories of winter) I spent the chilly morning digging Dahlia ‘Sneezy’ up from the North Garden. It’s better to wait for a killing frost before digging dahlia tubers but we’re going to lose the volunteers soon and have to keep to a schedule and can’t wait patiently for frost. (Even with the chill this morning, the frost wasn’t a killer). Luckily the ‘Sneezy’s always have plump and healthy looking tubers no matter when we dig them or how awful the plant looks (some of them were smashed by neighbors and really scrunky looking). I cut off the stalks and will leave the tubers out to dry in the sun for a day or two before packing them in dampened sawdust and putting them in boxes down cellar. Aside from serious losses resulting from not unpacking some before hot and damp weather set in last spring, we were pretty happy with the sawdust method. Does anyone have a different tried and true method for overwintering dahlias? Enquiring gardeners want to know!

Tomorrow the we and the Deadheads will continue to winterize the North Garden. Many hands make light work and in no time at all, annuals will come out, perennials will be cut back and another giant pile of garden will be trucked off. We always try to leave some things in the garden for the lingering wildlife - I know where at least a couple of praying mantis egg cases are and last week we spotted this very-late-to-the-party monarch caterpillar on the move - probably looking for a spot to pupate. I expect that if we happen to find the chrysalis, Gail will rescue him and bring him home for her 8 year old to watch. (Don’t worry he’s not a wing-ripper-off-er!)

An Australian priest living in New Bedford, MA sent Blithewold’s executive director a poem and she encouraged me to share it. Fr. Sharbel said he was inspired to write this (as yet untitled) poem titled “Deight” after walking around Blithewold with a friend this summer:

Seeds planted long ago

Have now become a splendid show,

That bring delight to the heart

As each in order play their part.

As one strolls beneath the trees

In summer’s air become a breeze,

One feels a calm and peace of soul

Our stories are in whispers told.

Each path is followed with delight

For at each turn is found a sight,

Of colors in their varied shades

New in light that grows and fades.

Here we learn to take our time

And watch the years make better wine,

As from the beautiful, we here drink deep,

May we within thanksgiving keep.

-by Fr. Sharbel Francis Mary

Isn’t it lovely? I think he must have had a nice visit…

Yesterday, the Deadheads removed more of summer’s veneer in the Display Garden and started to *think spring* by planting tulips in the cutting beds. It seems like we gardeners spend a lot of time casting ahead to the future. We plan and scheme and envision seasons to come while being totally up to our elbows in the here and now. It’s no wonder we get exhausted. I love the digging, rearranging, tidying, and putting to bed of fall but have trouble switching gears to plan for the colors of spring! Spring is too soft and pastel for me now with fall in my face (sneeze-o-matic ragweed must be still blooming in the unseasonable warmth). Fall’s colors seem deeper, earthier, and maybe it’s the light but they seem more electric. Neon tree colors are driving me to distraction (and nearly off the road). I love the rudeness of fall too - it’s like a little kid throwing blustery tantrums and telling really juvenile jokes. Working in the North Garden last week a peculiar odor reached for my nose and I found this shocking thing (right) the size of my pointer finger in the otherwise demur and still pretty garden. Stinkhorn fungi (Mutinus elegans) can be found in bark mulch or really rich soil.

I hope summer visitors like Fr. Sharbel come back to Blithewold to see the “splendid show” (and off-color comedy revue) of fall, all the “colors in their varied shades” of winter and “the beautiful” this coming spring. Meanwhile I’m going to take “each [season] in order” and even if I have to cast ahead a bit to another, I’ll remember to delight in (laugh at) the now.

All good things must come to an end? That’s definitely not my kind of philosophy but it was a little bit true in the Display Garden today. The mansion is closed for the season and it’s time for us to start working on next year’s gardens: Hopefully, if funds and weather allow, Fred and Dan will be able to continue the Display Garden redesign this winter. The Idea Beds are next on their list. Gail and I want to save most of the perennials and shrubs from those beds and decided to move most of them, at least temporarily to the new Display Garden beds (the Ellipse and Stone Bench Beds).

So today we and the Deadheads had the heartbreaking task of ripping the tender stuff out of the still beautifully blooming Ellipse Bed to make room. The Deadheads made the best of it though and cut flowers to take home and some even took a plant or two to winter over. Gail and I chose plants to take in for “stock” and took dozens of last minute cuttings from the garden before the digging, wrenching and hurling started.

We probably should have been more conscious of the resident critters - this mantis found shelter in the chaos but I wonder how many we inadvertently evicted?

Getting started with our first fall project was actually pretty fun and if we think of it as more of a beginning than an end … then all good things must keep on!

Although there’s no threat of frost in this week’s hot and muggy forecast, this is our traditional time to start bringing Container Bed plants back into the greenhouse. Because we have so many tender plants it’s better for us to have to do a little extra watering once they’re inside than be caught in a frost warning gotta-get-them-in-right-now!-panic. As anyone who’s ever moved knows, it’s good (cathartic even?) to throw unwanted, useless things away first to make the load feel a little lighter. So we’re culling the herd. It’s tougher to throw out living breathing plants than pants you haven’t worn since 1983 though. There’s always the temptation to save them - maybe this year it’ll be beautiful!… Maybe this year it won’t be infested with mealybug!… Maybe this year pinstriped pegged jeans will be back in style…

Our first casualties were the Agapanthus. They were gorgeous once upon a time and we’ve been holding on to them as they’ve gotten more and more pot bound and more and more infested. It’s time to let go. So we asked Nick to do it. Nick The Willing (I think that’s his Viking name), one of the Deadheads, says “Sure! I can do that!” every time we ask him to do some hideous thing. In order to not throw the baby out with the bath water (ie. save the pots), he carved away the poor old roots and took a saw to the pot sides. Now what will we get to fill the empty pots?

Fred spotted somebody else making a move this week. Never-ever, not ever have I ever seen a slug this big outside of a Pacific Northwest rainforest! I’m not sure where he’s been this dry summer or where he was headed but Gail couldn’t help herself and took him home so that her 8 year old could impress the heck out of his classmates. I wonder if they’ve named him yet … He looked like a Jerome to me…

And froggy went a courtin’. The Rockettes found this one in the Rock Garden. The pond has dried up again but looks like a Nepeta nest makes a next best second home.

Anyone else making a move?

I know I’ve already gone on and on about the quality of light this fall - but really, honestly, truly these crispy dew-drop mornings with sloping sunshine are divinely gorgeous! All sorts of lovelies were lit by this morning’s spotlight:

The Tamarisk (Tamarix ramosissima) down by the shore was an effervescent haze of pearly gray-green-blue.

The Seven-son flower (Heptacodium miconioides) are almost prettier just past bloom when the bloom bracts turn a pinky red.

This is my favorite time of year for the Harlequin Glory Bower (Clerodendrum trichotomum). While it’s in bloom the scent is enough to knock me off my feet (or give me at least a little up-the-nose ache) but it’s all worth all kinds of perfume discomfort for the October red gift-wrapped turquoise gem berries.

As long as they’re in residence, I’ll keep taking their picture: This praying mantis must have just had breakfast and was cleaning its paws like a cat…

Mary’s Tupelo (Nyssa sylvatica) looked like it was singing an aria from center stage. For information about our Memorial/Honorarium tree planting program click here.

And this Trumpet spurflower (Rabdosia longituba) doesn’t need actual dew to look dew-dropped. Plant Delights Nursery describes this as a “woodland member of the salvia family” and it just started blooming for us in the dry shade bed under the Sophora by the Moongate. If Mary’s tree is singing, this is the sheet music!

What’s center stage in your garden?

Late September is a keep on keeping on time for us. The gardens are still puffing away practically under their own steam and we won’t start pulling the brakes until after the house closes (Columbus Day weekend). Now’s the time for noticing.

Gail looked up in the Bosquet and noticed a bouquet. Mushrooms on a tree (in this case a Norway maple - Acer platanoides) are, unfortunately not a sign of health…

I noticed this praying mantis noticing me. (and I can’t seem to not take a picture when I spot one!)

This swallowtail caterpillar noticed only the carrot greens.

The Moongate Sophora is so laden with seedpods that if you don’t take notice, it will bean you.

One of the Rockettes noticed a praying mantis egg case in the False indigo (Baptisia australis). - Why do they choose plants we cut back?

Kari also noticed green tipped, spooned petal mutations on some Zinnia Profusion Double Pink in the North Garden. (She thinks we ought to have it patented and market it as the Blithewold Zinnia - it is that cool!)

I noticed how a Rudbeckia was deadheaded. — The first gardening job I ever had, I was given little instruction and free run on the grounds of a small school in CA. In order to fly under the radar of my boss (a tiresome and rather fatuous bump) I taught myself fairy-like subtlety and elfish stealth. — I was worried enough about doing the wrong thing that I made sure that what I did, didn’t show. Turns out, when it comes to deadheading, that’s a good thing to do! Rather than pop a deadhead off leaving a bare stick flagpole above the leaves, it’s less noticeable to make the cut at a leaf or better yet, a new bud. I like to look around the garden and see where I’ve been without being able to see where I’ve been!

What’s noticeable to you?

It’s hard to compete with a street fair, a Touch-a-Truck (”some had air horns!” said one kiddo I know), a nearby harvest festival with do-it-yourself scarecrows, a working waterfront festival a few towns over and a gorgeous warm breezy sunny day that made being out on the water requisite for anyone with access to a boat — BUT Blithewold’s Fall Gardener’s Day was where the gardeners were. I was hoping to meet fellow bloggers and readers but alas you attended incognito and in spirit - those who were here must have caught my shy bug — it’s going around… I was even going to take a guess-who shoe portrait! (If you look really closely, you can see the hazy outlines of at least a dozen pairs of feet who were nearly here - and guess who?!)

Most of my day I bounced from the Blithewold plant sale table (where I was camped to sell begonias, clivias, figs and other greenhouse babies) to the other vendors’ booths where I spent considerably more than I earned that day! I caught snippets of lectures and eavesdropped on rave reviews. By the sound of it Andrew Grossman had everyone rethinking their garden design, Lisa Gibson McMahon sent everyone home with beyond-frost salad starts and Barney Webster spawned a few water gardener wanna-bees. And everyone learned something new from flower drying and arranging, fall container planting, and pruning, to what will change for gardeners as the climate changes.

Just because Fall Gardener’s Day is behind us (and ahead - mark your 2008 calendar) doesn’t mean we’re done showing off the garden - the kaleidoscope continues! And Jake (who answers to many other names) has appointed himself cutest greeter - can you stand it?!

Yesterday’s fog cloud lifted just in time. (I suspect helpful fairies.) Long shadows, golden brights and dulcet tunes on guitar and mandolin were the stage set, backdrop and surround sound for a gorgeous evening Soiree in the Display Garden - the final one for this season (stay tuned for next year’s Soiree listings). Italian wines and cheeses were a perfect complement for a positively Tuscan light (it’s what I imagine anyhow…) and an exhuberantly abundant fall garden.

Gail and Julie and I answered questions about the gardens but the buzz on everyone’s lips was the Fairy Houses. It was the best thing to see otherwise elegant and sophisticated grown-ups go in search of a little playful magic! (Fairies are everywhere!)

In Soiree preparation we moved new combinations into the Idea Beds (placing a beautiful potted plant in a daylily hole can make the whole garden seem new again), tidied Gus-Gus’ pond, raked paths and deadheaded with the Deadheads and fine tuned with the Rockettes. Good luck follows Katherine, one of the Deadheads, who was paid the highest compliment from one of the garden’s sprites! (Magic is all around us!)

The feeling of last night lingered in the garden this morning and it looks for all the (enchanted) world like the conversations continue.