Garden Variety in September

With the help of my landscaper friend (and his helper), last week I was able to prepare the back garden for my birthday party and a small open garden event. 

A brief swelling event interrupted my ability to get things completely finished in time, but it was simply a minor setback considering what my life used to be like not that long ago. 

Now I will be able to continue enjoying this space until it's too cold outside to do so and in the meantime I can keep working on other projects that need to be done around the house. 

Finally sitting back to enjoy the garden is a lot of fun for me now after 8 years of working on it. Like many novices or amateurs I made plenty of mistakes, and eventually they'll be corrected I suppose, but I don't see them nearly as often since there truly are so many other things to sit and marvel over. 

One big project right now is to take back the studio/garage space and to empty out its contents once and for all. A dear friend of mine I've known since he was born asked me after the birthday party if he could rent the space for an art studio and I was so excited to say, "Yes! Let's do it!" 

I'd always wanted that space to be used for creativity and I'm thrilled since this friend is such an amazingly talented artist. I cannot wait to be inspired by his work. 

In the meantime, as I work, I'll keep looking at the many layers and textures in the garden and I will start coming up with funny names for all the different shades of green I see. This seems like a fun activity to me. 

And as the days continue to be dry and warm around here, I keep thinking of the salmon stacking up in the coastal rivers and streams waiting to spawn. More will be on their way soon—once we have rain—but until then I will look up at my salmon knowing they will come. 

The Virginia Creeper (Parthenocissus quinquefolia) on the back of the house changes to a bright red just as the salmon spawn and die. I find this touching just as the cold begins to set in around here. 

The Green Rose, (Rosa chinensis 'Viridiflora').

Neglect sadly hurt several of the best of my plants this year, and I was unable to enjoy as many green roses as I was able to last year, but at least I've been able to share the experience of their scent with others. There is nothing quite like a rose that smells of black pepper. 

Spotted Bellflower, (Campanula punctata). 

Here is my Spotted Bellflower, near death, holding on and giving me the best blooms that it can muster. It's these moments that I'm cherishing now too as I wander around the garden unearthing plants that have fallen by the wayside in the aftermath of separation and divorce. Their struggle to survive is truly making me smile more and more and I'm doing my best now to have a new plant ICU back up and running. 

Yes, and then there are those designer-like touches that were added for the party which make me smile too. I am such a plant-driven gardener and I just have to accept that as my lot in life. 

Persian Ivy, (Hedera colchica 'Sulpher Heart').

Speaking of plants, here is what I believe to be the largest of the large-leaved ivies. I love this vine and I should add that it is NOT an English ivy which is considered invasive here in Oregon. 

Dwarf Morning Glory, (Convolvulus tricolor 'Blue Ensign').

OK, so I posted a photo of this little blue gem a few weeks ago and here's another one. No, the plant itself it not a great performer, but given more sun, I think these little guys would have faired better. Overall, their color is worth giving them a shot and I plan to plant more of them next year. 

Ponytail Palm, (Beaucarnea recurvata).

Then there are the "other"plants. This poor Ponytail Palm was chewed on a few too many times by a certain elderly cat I know. Luckily the one I grew from seed is inside in a protect spot far from any of my feline housemates. 

My little pomegranate fruit was something I took great pride in up until this evening when I noticed it had taken on a little green friend. My hopes for a perfect fruit were dashed, but life will go one. I accept that this kind of thing happens and it naturally a given in any garden. We can't really control what happens out there but we can struggle with the concept both in our gardens and in our own lives. 

Oh well! Better luck next year I guess. This happened and now what do I do? Life goes on...

(Like all gardeners I have faith and hope, and because of this I always believe that next season will be better.)