Are you familiar with the children’s picture book Goodnight Moon? In it, a young rabbit says good night to all the objects in his bedroom as a way of settling down to sleep. Frost is predicted for later this week–I marvel that we’ve dodged the bullet this long–and I went around my garden to say goodbye to all the plants that won’t be here after the frost hits them, as a way of settling down to autumn–and what lies beyond.Your flowers are weird looking but oh-so-fragrant. I will be saving your tuber once again to plant next year. Sleep well. You didn’t strut your stuff until September, but once you started blooming you were all a gardener could ask for. Hope we can dance sooner next year. Why? What did you want that I couldn’t give you? And–hey, wait a minute! You don’t even look like ‘Karma Prospero’! Who are you, and what are you doing in my garden? You showed me I needed a big statement in the Roadside Bed. I’ll always remember you. I know you’re not a plant, but you’ll fall to pieces in the cold. Bringing you inside for the winter is the right thing to do. I rescued you from that abusive gardener, watered you well, provided more spacious living quarters, coddled you all last winter with the sunniest window I had, and gave you my favorite trellis–and for what? Not one bloom, that’s what. Tell your excuses to the compost pile. I’m done with you. Frankly, when you three came into my life, I didn’t know what to expect. Campfire™ Fireburst Bidens (courtesy Proven Winners), it’s not you, it’s me. I just don’t know how to pull you through the winter. Tropicanna Gold® canna (courtesy Longfield Gardens), I just know you’ll look great out front next year, so I’m prepared to winter over your rhizomes. Lemon Coral™ sedum (courtesy Proven Winners), your tag said Sedum rupestre, and your cousin ‘Angelina’ is hardy here, so I thought you would be, too. Now they tell me you’re an annual, Sedum mexicanum, but I’m still going to plant you in my warmest microclimate and keep my fingers crossed, because we had a fabulous summer together. For a Hydrangea macrophylla you’re pretty decent. Looking forward to more blooms next year (hint, hint). You were here when I moved in, and we’ve never been properly introduced. I don’t even know your name! And yet, you’ve been so supportive, the foundation of the back garden. I couldn’t do it without you! Enjoy your rest–you’ve earned it. And may I just say?–that color is stunning on you. Holy Moly!, what fun we’ve had! I’m going to move you to the stone terrace out front so you can linger a little longer. My friends all say you’re a great performer, but let’s face it–you’re good-looking, but you just can’t handle frost. I’m going to move you to the front and I hope that helps you bloom earlier (like September). But if that doesn’t do the trick–we might not have a future together. You’re a great mingler, and I really appreciate that about you. I expect I’ll see you next year, unless I inadvertently weed out your seedlings. I’m ashamed to say it’s happened before. You are really a class act, and you know how to make that deciduous azalea look his best. But I’ve tried to keep your type happy through the winter without much success, so I must bid you adieu. But I know who’s going in that container next year. Lobelia, lobelia, lobelia–what am I going to do with you? It took you the whole growing season to look like something. Next year, forget about seed. I’m buying already blooming plants. You’re sweet, but slow. Bloom-in-September slow. I should start you indoors, but there’s only so much room under the lights. I know it wasn’t really hot enough for you, but at least we had rain. Right? Right? Oh my gosh, begonia, look at how you’ve grown! I’ll store your tuber this winter, and next year you’ll be promoted to a hanging basket!
Hello frost, goodbye tender plants everywhere. But there’s still plenty that looks good in my garden even after a frost. I may not have flowers every month of the year, but I have flowers every month there’s not snow on the ground.
Inspired by the words of Elizabeth Lawrence, “We can have flowers nearly every month of the year,” Carol of May Dreams Gardens started Garden Bloggers Bloom Day. On the 15th of every month, garden bloggers from all over the world publish what is currently blooming in their gardens, and leave a link in Mr. Linky and the comments of May Dreams Gardens.