Category Archives: Gardening

Late summer is at hand, as evidenced by the blooming of the seven-son flower tree. The buds to this form much earlier in the summer – usually peeking out at the end of June, and then slowly developing into these small and unspectacular blooms that are more fragrant than anything else, produced in enough abundance to appear as loose clouds. 

Beloved by bees, who have been buzzing around en masse and eliciting all the sweet nectar they can, the perfume of this tree is its most intoxicating aspect, though the papery bark of its trunk, when allowed to develop fully, may give such intoxication a run for its money. 

The birds have found a haven in this tree too, with cardinals using its branches as a perch between flights, and finches finding safety in its leaves whenever someone gets too close to their preferred cup plants. It’s a focal point of the poolside garden, and its charms mostly outweigh the peskiness of its falling blooms, which I’ll scoop out as much as possible before they sink to the bottom. 

The finches have been having a daily party at our stand of cup plants, joining the masses of bees and a couple of butterflies, and now and then an iridescent dragonfly. If you want to see the one in the opening GIF, you’ll have to look fast, because it’s gone in a flash. The finches are even more flighty than the hummingbirds we’ve had lately, disappearing with the first movement of the door or the opening of a window. As such, we treasure their golden beauty all the more, because it is so fleeting. They will stick around until well into the fall, as the cup plant’s seed-heads continue to ripen. Doing their part to ensure the proliferation of future cup plants around the yard, the finches work on their picking and pecking to disperse the seeds far and wide. It’s not exactly welcome at this point as we have enough cup plants to last for a lifetime, and their roots reach down early and intractably, but I cannot begrudge the finches their food and their fun. 

As if to say this summer is not yet over, and assembling for a party is the best way to prove it, the birds and bees and butterflies have been having a field day in our clumps of cup plants, buzzing and chirping and fluttering about their pollination work, and so our summer continues onward. Not content to throw it all away just yet, despite the wonky and rainy extended start, they seem to have congregated in the backyard as proof that the work is not yet done. This also marks the first few days of the unfurling blooms of the seven sons’ flower tree – two specimens of which now rise twenty feet in our back and side yards. 

It’s been nice having the sun back in our lives these past few days, reminding us that August and September are mostly about summer, and that the season is still high when it chooses to be. Autumn may be creeping into the nights, and the light lasts a little less every day, but it’s still summer. Hold into it…

Behold the Hibiscus! 

Bold, enormous, and somehow delicate, these gigantic blooms are finally putting on their annual show in the backyard, with little to no help from yours truly. Their super-late emergence typically means they get lost in the spring shuffle, and by the time their stalks appear, I’ve usually moved on to other concerns. It’s totally unfair, especially considering how well they perform, how stunning their show, and how consistent they’ve been. 

With blooms the size of dinner plates, in shades striking and soft, with foliage bright and light or sultry and dark, the Hibiscus – also hardy in Zone 5 – makes for a magnificent addition to the garden, and I may make room for a few more.

They can be shy and demure, or brash and loud, depending on the stage of their blossoms, and the colors of their petals and leaves. Such changeability and flexibility is a boon in a world that demands versatility.

This little stand of cleome in our front yard is what remains after a swath of volunteers popped up this year. They’ve steadily been increasing their numbers in the very-limited space of our front square, and this year I did a drastic editing of their army, allowing these few to prosper and grow. 

They start out deceptively small – both the actual plant itself, as well as the blooms. The latter begins in shades of pink and cream, just a small little puff of petals at the top, and then it begins to elongate and fill out until a large pom-pom of floriferous wonder sets atop a three-foot stem. The lower stems start going to seed before they even finish the flowering at the top, creating a fascinating display of the full life cycle at one glance. 

I’ll let these sew next year’s volunteers because it’s good to have such color at this time of the year. 

Our little border of lavender, an impulsive addition in anticipation of our favorite lavender-lover JoAnn’s visit earlier this summer, is in the midst of a second round of flowering. In their sunny spot, they seem to be quite happy, which initially felt a little odd since we’ve had so much rain and cloud cover this summer. I always thought lavender liked it hot and dry. Perhaps there is room for flexibility there too. 

Whatever the reason for this second showing, it’s lovely to see and experience – as lavender is not just visually appealing – the scent is intoxicating, and a bonus to brush as one walks by the deep end of the pool. It’s nestled in among some mint as well, lending a delicious olfactory duet to unsuspecting swimmers. 

The Japanese painted fern is said by some to be the most beautiful foliage plant in the world. I’m inclined to agree with that bold statement, given the variety of color and shades in a single frond. I also enjoy how these hues change and evolve as the plant grows. Come fall, these will turn a creamy yellow, sometimes almost a pale white, ghostly echoes of the green and teal and gray and maroon tints you can find on them now. 

Ferns like this provide a visual cooling system for the garden when the days get hot and bothered. That hasn’t happened much this year, but their beauty is still appreciated, and they are hardy and reliable perennials that can withstand a total takedown by rabbits or groundhogs and rebound before the season is completely done. 

The relatively cool and wet summer we’ve had this year (courtesy, no doubt, of our new pool liner and the way the universe will always screw you no matter what you want) has a few silver linings (or lilac linings as the case may be) and that comes to light with this Wolf’s Eye Kousa dogwood, still enjoying some creamy bracts that look like flowers this late in the season. In most years, this show would have ended by early July, burned away and forgotten by the heat of the sun and the dryness that summer most often produces. This time around the ‘blooms’ have persisted to this moment, and don’t look to dissipate anytime soon. 

I’m not mad about that.

I am mad about the rain. 

This is a deeper, darker variety of the common daylily – that ubiquitous orange beacon currently blooming along many roads and ditches. The plant pictured here has been growing at my parents’ house for at least three decades. For some reason, they always struck me as gorgeously exotic when I would see them in banks and ditches in my childhood. The blooms and foliage would be relatively unremarkable – perfectly fine and pretty, but not of particular note among the variety of grasses and plants that grew beside them – but when they started opening their bright flowers, they were all I would notice. 

Andy and I don’t currently have any daylily plants in the garden, and I am always claiming that I’m going to rectify that. Despite the fact that each bloom lasts but a day, they are produced in such profusion that the entire blooming period should last a couple of weeks. Some varieties even deign to re-bloom, extending the season even further. And that foliage remains green and fine for the entire summer. 

A few years ago I purchased a couple of ‘King Tut’ papyrus plants on a whim, and after drowning them in water and sun they rose to tower almost over my head by mid-summer, pumped up from  a steady diet of moisture and fertilizer, and lined pots that only let a little bit of drainage occur. Papyrus do quite well when they are practically standing in water, and the ‘King Tut’ variety that was available took in all the nourishment, and the regular supply of sun that summer, to soar skyward. 

This year, I found a few papyrus plants at Lowes – an unmarked variety so I had hoped they were less-hybridized, and even taller when treated well – but they turned out to be some dwarf version. Better for a smaller pot or garden, but not the larger trio of urns I’d wanted them to fill. 

That said, they are starting to fill out – sunless days be damned! – and their smaller stature and finer form actually draws the onlooker in, demanding a closer inspection.

Set against the blue water, their bright green hue looks especially striking in the sunlight, which may have made a comeback this week. Echoes of the Nile, and Cleopatra glamour, come with the territory of the papyrus plant. Or maybe that’s just my overactive imagination…