Full Moon Insanity

Full moons are associated with insanity, hence the terms "lunatic" and "lunacy." The October full moon can be the Hunter's Moon (Native American), Harvest Moon (English), Travel Moon, Dying Grass Moon, or Blood Moon. The grass that you see in this picture--which I took in the light of the full moon, assisted by porch lights-- is indeed turning brown at the tips, so "Dying Grass Moon" may well be appropriate.

But the real insanity is that my 'Paprika' yarrow is blooming right now. I bought three of these from Bluestone Perennials this spring, and the other two had a bloom each this summer during the time when the achilleas normally flower. Apparently it took the wackiness of a full moon to coax blooms from #3, which you can see in front of the ornamental grass.

The other plants in this vignette are: red coleus, in the grey pot, more achillea 'Paprika' foliage, a carex comans 'Frosted Curls' that will be moved in the spring to a moister locale, 'Chubby Fingers' creeping sedum, 'Bressingham Ruby' bergenia, and a small golden culinary sage.

2006 Cal Ripken Award

Cal Ripken played his last game exactly 5 years ago today, on October 6, 2001. He won so many awards--MVPs, Gold Gloves, Silver Sluggers--that it would take a whole post on a separate baseball blog to talk about them.

I was thinking about Cal today as I checked out my 'May Night' salvia. Cal is, of course, best known as baseball's "Iron Man" for playing in 2,632 straight games over 16 consecutive seasons.

'May Night' is known as a garden workhorse for its consecutive weeks in bloom... and it has been blooming in my garden now since the first week of June. I sometimes remember to deadhead it, and sometimes not. Doesn't seem to matter either way--'May Night' is still flashing its baby blues well into the fall with nary a complaint. Rather like a certain #8.

The Year of the Spider?

Lots of people are having run-ins with spiders this year. I've seen more of them in my own garden this fall than I ever have... but none of mine are quite as big as those that Carol's sister is hosting. I admit that I do have a favorite spider amongst the denizens of my yard. I don't know how well you can see the web in front of my leaded glass window in this picture, but a 7-legged spider has taken up residence there. (Yes, 7... his left front leg is missing, but that doesn't seem to slow him down a whole lot.)

The storm window was removed in early June so that I could repaint the window sill. I stripped off the old cracked paint, primed, and got two coats of the dark brown paint on before we hit a rainy spell. The only steps left were to clean the paint spatters (some from me, some from previous owners) off of the glass with a straight razor and then carefully add a final coat of brown.

By the time I got back up on my ladder a week later, the spider had moved in. I didn't think that he was going to catch much up in that high window--it's a good 10ft. off of the ground--so I decided to finish off the other two and then come back to this one when he'd left for buggier pastures.

I'm still waiting for him to leave, in fact... but at this point it seems as though he's got a lease through the first frost. He travels the web during the evenings, but during the day he crawls up to the top of the web and hangs out on a little spider-sized "shelf" that the inside of the storm window provides.

I like to stand on my stair landing, just inside the window, and check on him as he naps the day away--he looks so snug and comfortable there. I haven't been able to get a good picture of him, though, because he's very camera shy and the old glass is uneven enough that it distorts anything I try to take from the inside.

So I'll just enjoy my temporary pet spider until it gets too cold for him... and postpone my plans to finish that window until next spring.

My Head Spun Around...

Okay, maybe it didn't. But I definitely felt like I was possessed as I tore through the back bed last night. I didn't plan to start ripping the bed apart at all--I just kind of snapped as I was looking at it.

See, the area where I put in the purple ninebark a week or so ago is starting to look good already. In front of it, the 'Little Spire' Russian sage has rebound once it escaped the shade of the amaranths that had towered above it. I threw an unnamed hosta in the open space beside the perovskia until I can figure out what dark-green-leaf plant I want there permanently. I kind of like the play between those three things and the still-small 'Rotstrahlbusch' panicum virgatum to the left.

In fact, the more I looked at the area I liked, the more the rest of the bed just started to eat at me. There were so many things in temporary places--like the little bluestem, which clashes with the Russian sage--and so much unevenness. I tried to mentally move things so I'd have a plan for the spring, but even that wasn't helping... I finally couldn't stand it anymore and went to grab the shovel.

The picture above was taken midway through the carnage. I had hacked out one of the pineapple sages, dug out many tall iris, and transplanted a hollyhock that I'd started from seed. The rest of the pineapple sage, all of the other annuals, and the carrots would also come out before the sun went down, and I'm finally down to mere perennials and shrubs in that bed.

So it looks absolutely terrible now, but I can finally see what I'm working with and start moving plants accordingly. Out of chaos will come better order, but I must admit that I'm still a little stunned by all of the demo work that I accomplished yesterday. Does anyone else have, um, "episodes" like this in the garden? Or am I alone in my pseudo-artistic temper tantrums?

Lest you all think that I was just cranky and no-fun all day yesterday, I did have some amusement as well. Brian decided to go outside and closely inspect "his" rosebush... the one he brought me from Home Depot on a whim because it was so beautiful. (For that reason alone, I think it's gorgeous even though the flowers are... yes, pink. *sigh*)

He found some infected leaves on the bottom of Ms. Clair Renaissance, so he went back out with a sharp implement and a plastic bag and commenced removing said leaves very carefully. It was very cute, as he approached it as a bonsai: Look, consider a cut, look more, and finally make a cut. I couldn't resist taking some pictures of him through the picture window. He doesn't read my garden blog, so he probably won't know that I'm posting them... but isn't he cute? :)

Why I Love Backlighting

As I worked in the garden for a while today, the changing colors of the doublefile viburnum kept catching my eye. I love this shrub in all of its incarnations... when it holds its delicate spring flower sprays lofted, when its thickly serrated green leaves sway in the summer breeze, when it starts to turn a dark reddish purple in the fall, and when its horizontal branches catch dustings of snow in the winter.

The jewel-like reds and purples were quite dazzling in the sunshine, playing off the deep color of some nearby purple-leaf heucheras and the reddish brown carex buchannii. I took some time out from fall planting and ran inside for the camera. I walked around the shrub from West to East, taking several pictures from different angles before bringing the camera back to safety inside.

Tonight, when I went to download the pictures, I was amazed at the difference in the way the shrub looked frontlit vs. backlit. On the first picture, you can tell that the bright sunshine is coming from the front and is washing out the leaf colors a bit. You still do get a sense of the darkness of the reds and the deepening purples, though. You see the serration on the leaves, the branching structure, and even some grass in the background. On the flip side, you don't catch any of the "glow" that was so enchanting me every time I walked past the shrub.

In the second picture, taken within a minute of the first, the shrub is backlit. This is a much more warm and dramatic way to see the colors of the leaves, and you don't have to imagine that the leaves can actually glow. You see it with your own eyes. You still see the serration and a little bit of the background, too. In the interest of truth I must admit that the backlit pictures aren't 100% accurate, either, however. In picture #2 the shrub shows way more orange and yellow tones than I saw in real life.

That said, it still seems to capture the spirit of what I was trying to take more so than the first picture does... maybe it just better represents the feelings of wonder and magic with which I tend to view my garden?