It's Labor Day Weekend in San Francisco, which means it's just about time for the summer fog to lift, so we can have our warm and SUNNY (God willing) September and October. This year it was incredibly foggy and cold, all in July and August, which makes the sunflowers in my garden just that much more impressive. HOW are they growing? Yet they do.
So, yes, the garden continues to change as the seasons move from one to the other. It was Lammas last month, and the equinox is coming. The kale was old and very bitter, and had to be pulled out by its hoary roots. I turned over the dirt, raked, and planted rows of broccoli and spinach (this is our first attempt at fall / later plantings). Other plants had to be cut back, deadheaded, pruned. It's a continious process, and often I really have to work to find time to get out there - do a little bit each time I am out there.
But it's worth the time and effort. In places, it is like a magical or secret garden; fences on each side give opportunity for the hanging crap apply trees and blackberry bushes to do their picturesque thing. Here's what it looks like, from front to back:
Next to the grill, we start with the larger terra cotta pots, filled with hardy Mexican sage and a species of yarrow, I think. Next to that, the unknown flowers my domestic mother-in-law sent up with my partner last time he visited - she knows I garden. They are doing well. Then, there's the dying tarragon, the succulent pagoda, and the herb garden. I have to keep cutting back the St. John's Wort, but it now looks interestingly like a veil for the faux stone Buddha head next to the mint and the fountain. There's some stray borage, the giant pineapple sage (I had no idea it would get so BIG), and the many lavenders.
The lawn, the hanging decorations - a large metal star, the multi-planted hanging pots, a wind twirly purple plastic thing, the other rainbow twirly thing. The spearmint geranium, more succulents (in Mexican painted pots), then the strawberry patch (four or five), the two artichokes, the small squash, the big squash, some autumn-colored mini mums, a bunch of sunflowers - including the really tall one - the transplanted mint and, of course, the compost heap. There's also as of today all of the small containers in which I planted dozens of snow pea, pea pod, bean and broccoli seeds.
On the other side, we have a Victorian-looking decorative circular metal wall hanging. There's the feather-leafed Japanese maple, the hanging blackberry bushes, the nasturtiums (wild), some lavender, cosmos, and shade plants I forget the name of but come in bright snake greens and flame reds and glossy deep greens. Some marigolds, potatoes, lettuce, zucchini, yellow crookneck, carrots, onions, mint, more cosmos, the ever-seeding oregano bush, and the other sunflower patch.
I find the sunflowers to be the crowing glory of the garden.Some of these are almost as tall as the really tall one, and they also are more of a patch, rather than a line. They are all colors: deep yellow, pale yellow, red-gold, and dark burgundy. A few of them are the type of sunflower that yield two or three blooms, but the vast majority of them have dozens of buds. They are positively bursting with sunny yellow life; there are double-buds and triple-buds and crowns of flowers.
The impressively tall one has a strange origin: the front patch was too crowded when they were still small four-leafed inch-high seedlings, so I moved some to the back by the compost. But one of these was accidentally stepped on by my partner when he was back there, and he crushed it, and then realized there was one more that would be in the way, so he re-transplanted that one. And THAT is the one that grew to eight feet tall. I have no idea why. It must be perfectly placed in terms of maximizing sun.
I find them fascinating, these yellow giants. They were so small - just seeds, then these adorable tiny two-leaved babies, so fragile. The snails ate some, but most of them made it and now they are these giant stalks, dwarfing me, nodding with heavy heads, full of bees and pollen and ants and whatnot. The eco-system in the backyard is also amazing: butterflies (orange and black ones, and always a few all white ones); bees (honey and bumble); beetles and spiders and worms, of course; dragonflies, hummingbirds, gophers and a stray cat named Patches - although I think she is in for a rename. You can sit there and just watch nature do its thing. If the sun is shining, the whole effect is very relaxing. I recommend the beauty of the outdoors, a secret garden of your own if possible, but the sea or mountains or forest will do as well.
Anyway, that is my garden update. I know writing about gardening is like dancing about architecture, and it may be of no interest to anyone, but it's a hopefully a slightly inspiring musing that will help you picture (or create) a lovely garden of your own, in your backyard or your mind's eye...
So, yes, the garden continues to change as the seasons move from one to the other. It was Lammas last month, and the equinox is coming. The kale was old and very bitter, and had to be pulled out by its hoary roots. I turned over the dirt, raked, and planted rows of broccoli and spinach (this is our first attempt at fall / later plantings). Other plants had to be cut back, deadheaded, pruned. It's a continious process, and often I really have to work to find time to get out there - do a little bit each time I am out there.
But it's worth the time and effort. In places, it is like a magical or secret garden; fences on each side give opportunity for the hanging crap apply trees and blackberry bushes to do their picturesque thing. Here's what it looks like, from front to back:
Next to the grill, we start with the larger terra cotta pots, filled with hardy Mexican sage and a species of yarrow, I think. Next to that, the unknown flowers my domestic mother-in-law sent up with my partner last time he visited - she knows I garden. They are doing well. Then, there's the dying tarragon, the succulent pagoda, and the herb garden. I have to keep cutting back the St. John's Wort, but it now looks interestingly like a veil for the faux stone Buddha head next to the mint and the fountain. There's some stray borage, the giant pineapple sage (I had no idea it would get so BIG), and the many lavenders.
The lawn, the hanging decorations - a large metal star, the multi-planted hanging pots, a wind twirly purple plastic thing, the other rainbow twirly thing. The spearmint geranium, more succulents (in Mexican painted pots), then the strawberry patch (four or five), the two artichokes, the small squash, the big squash, some autumn-colored mini mums, a bunch of sunflowers - including the really tall one - the transplanted mint and, of course, the compost heap. There's also as of today all of the small containers in which I planted dozens of snow pea, pea pod, bean and broccoli seeds.
On the other side, we have a Victorian-looking decorative circular metal wall hanging. There's the feather-leafed Japanese maple, the hanging blackberry bushes, the nasturtiums (wild), some lavender, cosmos, and shade plants I forget the name of but come in bright snake greens and flame reds and glossy deep greens. Some marigolds, potatoes, lettuce, zucchini, yellow crookneck, carrots, onions, mint, more cosmos, the ever-seeding oregano bush, and the other sunflower patch.
I find the sunflowers to be the crowing glory of the garden.Some of these are almost as tall as the really tall one, and they also are more of a patch, rather than a line. They are all colors: deep yellow, pale yellow, red-gold, and dark burgundy. A few of them are the type of sunflower that yield two or three blooms, but the vast majority of them have dozens of buds. They are positively bursting with sunny yellow life; there are double-buds and triple-buds and crowns of flowers.
The impressively tall one has a strange origin: the front patch was too crowded when they were still small four-leafed inch-high seedlings, so I moved some to the back by the compost. But one of these was accidentally stepped on by my partner when he was back there, and he crushed it, and then realized there was one more that would be in the way, so he re-transplanted that one. And THAT is the one that grew to eight feet tall. I have no idea why. It must be perfectly placed in terms of maximizing sun.
I find them fascinating, these yellow giants. They were so small - just seeds, then these adorable tiny two-leaved babies, so fragile. The snails ate some, but most of them made it and now they are these giant stalks, dwarfing me, nodding with heavy heads, full of bees and pollen and ants and whatnot. The eco-system in the backyard is also amazing: butterflies (orange and black ones, and always a few all white ones); bees (honey and bumble); beetles and spiders and worms, of course; dragonflies, hummingbirds, gophers and a stray cat named Patches - although I think she is in for a rename. You can sit there and just watch nature do its thing. If the sun is shining, the whole effect is very relaxing. I recommend the beauty of the outdoors, a secret garden of your own if possible, but the sea or mountains or forest will do as well.
Anyway, that is my garden update. I know writing about gardening is like dancing about architecture, and it may be of no interest to anyone, but it's a hopefully a slightly inspiring musing that will help you picture (or create) a lovely garden of your own, in your backyard or your mind's eye...
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