Compost Bonanza

I was ecstatic to find six huge bags of leaves at the burn pile at the dump, although I could only fit four of them into my Forrester (damn the need to buy groceries next). I had already placed a screen in front of my newest compost pile and begun the process of adding kitchen scraps and soiled hay to the existing layer of cardboard topped by grass clippings. Given the addition of a layer of seaweed and then the leaves, I have gone from "building a new compost area" to "waiting for Spring and the resulting fertile planting site" in a matter of two weeks. The location qualifies as partial shade as it is south-facing but also in the shade from the adjacent trees and the shed as the sunlight moves across the garden. Yes to well-drained, and let's not forget the need to be deer resistant. Spicebush? Serviceberry? Oregon grape holly? Rock cress aubrieta? Packera obovata? I love dreaming.

October Complacency

I was feeling quite proud of myself for planting absolutely nothing the last three weeks. Not only that, I have walked out of several nurseries empty handed, having visited for the sole purpose of buying a pumpkin or shopping in the associated Farmers Market. I worked on my Halloween display and I re-worked my stone wall. But no new plants for me, no-no-no. I toted water to the rhododendrons whenever there was a dry spell longer than six days. I pulled apart mature seed heads and distributed their contents. I envisioned cosmos and calendula and morning glory seeds in new places next season. I began a new compost pile and raked leaves from the roadside to aid to the soiled straw from the geese and soiled shavings from the rabbits. But I just said NO to the purchase of new plants. I cautioned myself that any week there will be hard frost, we are past a time for putting down new roots. I am past a time for daily check-ins to spot watering needs. I organized the shed, I brought in all the ceramic planters and birdbaths. My winter mode was switched on, the motor that plants from April onward was switched off. So I thought until I remembered alliums. I wanted to plant alliums this Fall. I wanted to see alliums sprout up giant and crazy and deer resistant next Spring. PayPal to the rescue, the bulbs are ordered, my trowel will not rest yet.

October Garden

I have been reading a lot of debate and ranting about the garden in Fall:  is it wondrous or is it barren of beauty? I'm not ready to exclaim that the October garden is as glorious as a May or July garden. But a garden is never without merit. The pollinators keep visiting, just varying their species in shifts. There is plenty of color and color contrast. Also, I side with the gardeners who do not tidy up and there is a bevy of small birds helping themselves to seed heads and no doubt other small creatures burrowing down through canes and fallen foliage in preparation for colder temperatures. Between the constant movement of the insects, birds and mammals and the daily changes of hue and texture, I believe my Fall garden is anything but dull.