Authentic Nautical Accessories, and Custom Furnishings
Most leaves are down, and we are busy raking and getting ready to mulch. We remove all the leaves from the paths but leave the plant beds covered to provide insulation for the woodland plants and to offer cover to the salamanders, lightning bugs, and other critters that need shelter.
Then I looked up and saw that the autumnal witch hazel was blooming.
I was still very much a New York City boy learning about Coastal New England. So, on a hike in the woods early in the fall, I asked my girlfriend about the pretty purplish flowers. She smiled and told me they were “frost flowers” because they opened as white flowers and gradually deepened in color as the season progressed, from white to lavender and then a bit deeper. Weather forecasts were uncertain, and the flowers were a folk forecast for frost. And sure enough, about three days later, I woke to the season’s first hard frost, with the long-term prognosis of a wet and icy coastal winter.
That winter, I learned how to fine-tune the little kerosene heater in the kitchen, use a torch very gently on a frozen water pipe, and dress in many more layers than I ever had in the city.
Every year since, I have looked for the little asters that turn color, and I still call them frost flowers, just as she and her family did. Although I know the Latin names for many of the plants in my gardens and woods, I persist in referring to them as frost flowers. In this, I prefer folk wisdom and custom to anything more sophisticated. I like it. It gives me a feeling of place and tradition.
I’ve filed a few reports on my pumpkins that refused to grow on the ground this summer. They were the aerial pumpkin squadron—five of them. They all have landed now as the vines died back. The one above is the largest and the last to land.
They’ll be on display on the porch, but no Jack O’ Lanterns are planned for them. They are all going for pie, pumpkin bread, and other treats. I’ll save some seeds for next year; the remainder will go out for the critters.
Aerial pumpkin growth is the way to go if your garden space is limited.
Happy Autumn!
This fast photo is one of the few I’ve shot this summer of my ” bog in a barrel.” This barrel once served as a staging ground for wetland plants and supplies for my pond while I was developing it. Eventually, the pond was on its own, and I abandoned it. But it did its own thing over the fall and winter of that year. The following spring, I noticed it was developing nicely into a small wetland bog alone, without my help. Since then, it’s become its own feature in the garden, frequently offering interesting small surprises.
I shot this when I noticed a plant new to the barrel but native to the area—the American Water Horehound. Its distinctive axillary white flowers and gently lobed leaves helped me identify it. I always like it when there is activity in the bog – like something native showing up that I did not put there. The bog in a barrel is small but is an integral part of my garden.
No blood-sucking insects in this pond this year! Frog and toad and their multitude of friends can barely wait to snap them up.
Around this time of year I start making berry bowls to bring in for the winter. It’s an old New England tradition I picked up many years ago in Maine. Originally berry bowls were moss, and small woodland plants with colorful berries. Made in small brandy snifters, they were a pleasant reminder in fall and winter of the woodlands in summer. They were frequently gifts for shut-ins and the ill.
Mine have evolved into terrariums of bog plants with insectivorous plants in recent years. Keep them in your kitchen, and you won’t have to worry about pesky fruitflies from the bananas or apples.
This year, I went with hardwood knots from the firewood stack. The knots start off a bit hollow and knurled. I deepened the hollow and added moss, partridge berry, and a sundew ( drosera). Being it’s a small bog, it does like to be moist. But I like the natural woodsy look of this new style.
It’s ripening, it’s bigger, and it’s so heavy that it’s pulling the vine towards the ground.
It may not be the “Great Pumpkin,” but it is an interesting garden object. There are now three other aerial pumpkins, and the watermelon has decided to join the fray and is also producing aerial fruit.
More later!
The hummingbirds visit at least once a day. Finally, I recorded this short video of one investigating me. He seemed to be saying, “Hi! Hello! Whatcha doin’?”
There are now at least four aerial pumpkins. The one shown above is the largest and is easily bigger than a political candidate’s swollen head. The pumpkins clearly love this weather – hot, sunny, wet, sunny and hot again.
It will all eventually wind up as pie, pumpkin bread, or pumpkin as a vegetable side dish. We stopped wasting them as Jack O’lanterns after the kids grew up.
More to come.
Here are the first cherry tomatoes of the season.
Pretty soon, I’ll be picking them by the basket and surreptitiously leaving them on neighbors’ porches.
You must be logged in to post a comment.