The Bees Of Autumn

It's as if they are out too late, getting drunk on nectar, then pass out at the tap. The next morning they move their limbs slowly, doing so until the sun activates their consciousness, puts the buzz back in their six-legged step.

Rain Memory

Today the sun shone gloriously, the sky bright blue, and the cool air not joking around -it means it this time. But did we all forget the rains of this week, the two mornings we were woken by the heavy drops blopping on the sill? Well we may have, but the plants remember.

Heavy rains have flattened my perennial sunflowers. Too bad, this year was the first year I pruned them just right, so that they remained mid-height and intermingled with the stiffer-stemmed, blue asters. The heavy rains weigh them down, the cells in each stem responding rapidly to the change -prostrate now, must turn up towards sun! It seems that in less than 24 hours the new form has been solidified. I call this rain memory.

The rains also flattened the weaker varieties of aster with nothing to lean on. It's a bit sad -sort of plant equivalent of a frown.

Aster 'alma potschke' has only begun to flower and is well tangled with other plants.

Speaking of sad, Eupatorium coelestinum looks like it's having the worst of hair days. Ratty.

And what of cosmos and ironweed and bluestem solidago? Maybe the tornado came through here too. The mildew on the zinnia and the not dead-headed enough cosmos conspire to blech.

On the upside, all these rains have pleased Aconitum. Yes, it's the earliest I've seen this specimen bloom, and it doesn't seem to mind the rain one bit. Probably thankful it received some water, lighter rains never making it through the yew tree it lies beneath.

Herbs, one month ago all frizzled and fried, now feeling stronger, enjoying the days of rains.

December Bloom

These asters are just opening up.

Last of the Sheffield.

Still going strong, the Salvia elegans.

No bloom but just as cool, the milkweed silk and seeds ready to see the breeze.

Of course, the late and long blooming other asters.

The hard to put down Sedum, keeps reblooming since August.

And the effervescent max sunflower, blooming much later in the side yard than in the front.

Come Again

I took this nice weather morning to plant these bulbs that I received, wow, over a month ago. All from Scheepers. In the back, Crocus tommasinanius and Crocus T. 'Lilac Beauty'. Twenty five for $4.75, I think that's a great price for the small pleasures of late winter. Scheepers' website mentions that squirrels don't eat these. Of course, I've had more trouble with my own shovel destroying the crocus, but I think I found evidence of the anti-squirrel qualities of these. I planted them in soil around the stepping stones in the side yard. The next day I went out and saw that the soil was spread all over the stones and what did I see, but one crocus bulb sitting on top, un-gnawed. I think sir squirrel moved on to other more tempting treats.

The front two are species lilies, 'Citronella' and 'Davidii', 5 bulbs each for $9.75 and honestly, I wish I could have given two of each away -no room! The white bulbs on the left are onion, Allium atropurpureum. I really don't like those giant globe allium, so I go for the varieties that have more open habits or the humble umbel forms.

I was planting the bulbs, moving iris and other perennials for the side yard flower garden, come vegetable garden, come again flower garden. Since that corner is kind of messy with the cat feeding and bottle depositing and otherwise garbage-y quality, not to mention the telephone poles that come and go, I put some max sunflowers in the corner to go with the mess. Today, when I am doing this other work, a neighbor says hello and then says 'finally cutting back those flowers, eh.' To which I respond, 'do you not like them?' And so on from there...

I will never cut down a flower in bloom. Just won't, unless, of course, it's for the vase. I certainly wasn't doing what my friendly neighbor was suggesting, and certainly not in November when every day with blooms is an anchorage to warm and temperate times. But I get it, neighbors want plants to stay within their frames- behind the fence, WHAP!! cracks the whip. So I bend, cranking back the poor stems of Helianthus maximilianii with a twine contraption, forcing them into the shade of the Yew tree they so desperately reach from to catch the last bits of low sun, their penchant tropism. Oh ye heliotrope, bend not to your need and will, but to the wants of your animal neighbors! Such as it is, such as it is.

Phooey

My landlord recently told my wife that the plants needed to be pulled back into the yard. But first she asked if they were weeds. Apparently, some neighbor is "getting wet" when they turn the corner.

This is how it looked, maximilian sunflowers not quite in bloom. At their feet, dayflower (a weed).

This is how it looks now, yanked back by twine. Every neighbor down this stretch has a concrete yard.

Savage Beginnings

I was going through some old photo CDs and I found these photos from the first year of the front yard garden in 2004. I had planted these maximilian sunflowers that I had dragged all the way from New Mexico -four years prior. They grew to 14 feet tall! Where does the tree begin and the sunflower end?

I planted cosmos sulphureus, and they got pretty damn big too. There were insects singing in there that I had never heard in the city -probably because I had threw in some plants from a garden in Maine. It was lovely in its wildness, but awful too.

There was a black-eyed-susan vine that had cute flowers but spread like a monster. The chain-link fence was still up, and overall things looked pretty ratty and wild.

The Boltonia I still grow, but no more B.E.S. vine, no more cosmos, no more Plume Poppy (you see it in the back left -one plant from Maine that became so many), no more of most of the plants I started with. Despite how it looked, I still was in love with it and the process of change over the years. I still have the maxamillian sunflowers, but I learned how to keep them shorter when I came around to understanding that they were asters. In my neighbor's garden, 'B' she goes by, I watched how she clipped back asters to keep their height under control.

I hear a rumour that my landlord will remove his remaining telephone poles from the other side of the house. If he does, and no one stakes a claim, I'll have doubled my 75 square feet to 150 in one fell swoop. I wonder if that new side will look like these photos do, when the front yard garden was new.

Not So Much Party Lights as Lights You Might Turn On at a Party

Recently I attended a party for my high school art teacher. I made her this string of lights. Over the years I have seen her collect many skeletons, more dia del muerte than medical mock-up. She is also a fan of sunflowers. Therefore, sunflower and skull lamps, cut into B/C-grade cedar shakes bought at Lowes and strung with a line of 10 lamps bought at Lighting Plus on Broadway at Great Jones.

 

Where Bees Sleep

I am getting ready to put together a longer post on weeds. Until then, I want to relay to you my utter fascination with the beds for bees. Tonight, as I passed the garden's sunflowers, I noticed one bee, then many sitting on the

disk

. I almost couldn't believe what I was looking at so that I had to blow on them to see if they would move. It took me a few minutes to realize I should try to get some photos. I had to use the flash, which disturbed them a little. But then back to sleep they went.

My landlord set up a date with a siding contractor, coming soon. Despite promises to the contrary, I fully expect major destruction to the garden wherever the workers will be. Small spaces, ladders, bootfeet, and old shingles tossed to the ground pretty much spells the end of the growing season to me. With that in mind, here's a shot of the garden from this morning.

The garden in early June

The garden now.