Accompaniments done, on to rice and breads. A little slower than anticipated, because I had a flower pressing emergency. Huzzah for the microwave, but it still took some time to get through the first wave. Also spent a little while pruning the hellstrip. V. satisfying, rehabilitating some of the damage from the road construction. It’s going to look very nice in a week or so, when it’s all done.
First dahlia of the season, a little late, because I was busier than usual in May, and so I didn’t get them into the ground until June. That’s all right, but it makes me a little sad to see how small the plant is. I started planting dahlias about six years ago, putting them in the ground in spring, lifting them out in fall, right after first frost. Storing the tubers carefully in a cool, dry place, to replant again the next spring. Each year, the tubers got bigger, and the plants put out more stalks, more flowers. After three years, I was able to gather great big bouquets for the house, and still have plenty of flowers left on the plant for the neighbors to enjoy.
But in 2015, chemo was followed by surgery was followed by radiation, and I was too harried and exhausted to keep track of everything — I could have gotten help, but I completely forgot to ask someone to dig out my dahlias at the right time. So they all died, rotting in the ground. I was so angry with myself when it happened.
Yet here I am, healthy again. In spring, I bought some dahlias again, put them in the ground. This one is Claudette, a variety I particularly liked, that I decided to repeat; the others are new. Claudette is lovely, even if she is a little small and spindly this year. She’ll grow. Sometimes, everything burns down, and you just have to start over. It’s okay.
This is the first year I’ve had colchicums (fall-blooming bulbs, a little larger than crocuses), and the first year I’ve had hardy mums that came back, probably twice as big as when I planted them last year. Love how they look together, with the silvery artemisia between.
When I first moved into the house, I concentrated on a spring garden (ephemeral bulbs, daffodils, tulips, bleeding heart), then after a few years, added more for summer (roses and clematis and lilies and hostas), and now, I’ve started focusing on the autumn garden, trying to create a tapestry of color.
Eventually, I’ll get to working on the winter garden too — maybe next year; I need to put in some evergreens, I think. I get impatient sometimes, wanting it all done at once, and must remind myself that there will be time. “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.”
Signs of autumn.
It’s nice to have the house full of flowers again — I usually don’t do much with indoor arrangements over the summer, but as we head into the darker part of the year, the need for brightness emerges.
Winter is coming. But it’s not here yet!
The Garden Club is experimenting with adding some weekend programming to our calendar — hope you can join us:
Sun October 1, 1:30 – 3:00, Oak Park Main Library, Community Engagement Space: “Planting Bulbs for Winter and Spring: paperwhites and amaryllis, spring ephemerals, daffodils and tulips and more.”
Sat February 17, 10 – 11:30, Oak Park Main Library, Small Meeting Room: “Seed starting for vegetable gardens.”
Sun April 22, 3 – 4:30 p.m., Oak Park Main Library, Veterans Room: “Dahlias! Planning dahlias for late autumn blooms.”
Light refreshments will be served; all are welcome.
This is some variety of beardtongue / penstemon, prairie native, new this year, and I totally underestimated how tall it would grow — it’s almost 4 feet, I think, and completely blocks my bench. Oops. Will move it. I was talking to a neighbor earlier today, as I moved an iris, and she said she didn’t realize you could just move things this time of year.
So thought it was worth noting that I move things all the time, to create better effects, or to put them in a happier spot for them. But moving is traumatic, so you have to be prepared to baby them for a little while afterwards, which mostly means lots of water. Saturating the ground before the move helps, so the roots soak up lots of water (which also makes it easier to dig), and digging a nice wide hole, so you grab a bunch of dirt around the roots, disturbing them as little as possible in the move. And of course, if you’re going to be moving things in summer, best to do it in the coolest part of the day, early morning or evening, and on an overcast day if possible.
But I really do move things all the time, and mostly they survive it. I accept a certain (fairly small) percentage of loss as a result. f I didn’t risk it, I’d never be able to remember where things were or why I wanted to move them; I need to see them in bloom, because my note-taking just isn’t that good. If I were more organized…
I’m pleased to note that the OPRF garden club is going to add some casual meet-and-greets in the next year — six of them, hopefully. They’ll have loose themes, with perhaps a 15-minute presentation, but we’ll also be encouraging people to simply bring their garden questions, ideas, thoughts, or simple interest in meeting other gardeners. Light refreshments will be served, and they’ll probably mostly take place at the libraries.
I’ll be working on the schedule in the next week, so if you have preferences for dates (we’re aiming for evenings or weekends, in contrast with the regular Garden Club meetings, which are on Wednesdays @ noon), now is the time to say so.
Also, if you have ideas / requests for topics to cover, please suggest them here! I have some ideas, but totally willing to toss them for better suggestions. 🙂
June: “Is This a Weed or a Flower?” (At Mary Anne’s house.)
August: “Planning your spring bulb garden: crocuses, daffodils, tulips, and more.”
October: “Forcing paperwhites and amaryllises for winter indoor blooms.”
December: Holiday meet-up!
April: “Planning dahlias for late autumn blooms.”