Apocalypse now…or at least by November 9

 

Last Frontier Gardener checking in here. The kids are all telling me that the country won’t last beyond the next election. Mayhem, violence, government overthrow, you name it. I’m also reading about my fellow Americans’ opinions on our descent into doom, deviancy, and destruction. People across the land shaking their heads, clicking their tongues, and stocking up the pantry and/or gun cabinet.

Poor America, having to choose between Candidate Baggage and Candidate More Baggage. Or is it Candidate No Way and Candidate No How? But, I reassure myself, every country has its troubles, right? Right?? I don’t remember feeling quite this despondent about voting before, my thought processes running thus, “that one I’d just have to wince and hold my nose and check the box, the other one I’d gag and maybe throw up a little in my mouth.”

Perhaps a write-in campaign is in order. I’ve heard/read that, too. But whom to pencil in? I say it doesn’t matter, it couldn’t be worse than what we already have (cough, Congress, cough). You all know I love lists, so here is my top ten list to give comfort to those who fear this election may result in The End of America.

(Ten Reasons Why) America Will (Probably) Still Be Standing After Elections on November 8…

1. …because they both can’t win. We only have to have one of them as president.

2. …because we don’t have to feel bad for the loser. Speaking fees and book offers will no doubt cushion the blow, and righteous indignation will be theirs forever.

3. …because Alaska, at least, is probably safe from any looting/armed takeovers, despite high population of impulsive/reckless persons (according to my made-up statistics, 63.4% of Alaska’s population is made up of hotheads). It’s too cold out for that nonsense. It was icy and about 25F today. Stay home and watch World War Z in your flannel pajamas instead, ok?

4. …so we can all enjoy the sound of silence; the robocalls will stop. Praise the Lord.

5. …because we are a forgetful people when it comes to politics. Or maybe it’s pragmatic, or apathetic. Whatever! We will all be able to enjoy Thanksgiving on November 24, without Grandma creaming Uncle Joe with the gravy boat or Cousin Right Wing spearing Cousin Left Wing with the turkey fork. At least for reasons related to which bubble on the ballot to shade. Long-standing family vendettas and grudges, rage on!

6. …because I’m told The End will be ushered in by 4 Horseman. If we can but keep Newt Gingrich off a horse, I think we’re safe.

7. …because I predict amazon.com, in cooperation with Homeland Security, will have a big online promo November 9 to keep everyone distracted.

8. …because I still haven’t seen the last Hobbit movie. I refuse to participate in an Apocalypse until I know what happens to Bilbo.

9. …because we owe too much money to China. They are never gonna let us get away with some phony-baloney bankruptcy due to civil war.

10. …because it’ll be a Wednesday. Everyone knows The End will come on a Monday, it’s the worst day of the week.

Don’t worry, my fellow Americans. It’ll all be over soon (or is that, it’ll all be over in four years when we have to do this again?). As for the rest of you lucky readers in other countries, enjoy a Trump-less, Clinton-less November.

 

What are you looking forward to after Election Day?

That day I never look forward to….

Yep, we had a frost last night. A very official one, too. My lawn is silver with frost, even at 8:30am, as I write this. Fortunately, the hop vine is still perky, and my orange dahlias on the front porch are only half brown and dead. Those are my bellwether plants.

I used to plant Coleus, and that is a very sensitive plant at my place to any cold at all. And Ipomoea, the potato vine I used to buy in all sorts of obnoxious colors, was also touchy about the low temperatures. Thus those two, though very useful and beautiful, are not a part of the scheme anymore, I can’t afford the losses.

I already brought inside my Carex, my beloved variegated sedge that doubles as a houseplant all winter long. The lavender plant I tried on a whim this summer got pulled into the house as well, if only to see if it would do something over the winter, which I am having my doubts about. I got one, count it, one bloom out of the thing, over the course of a record high temperature summer (so for us, lots of days in the 70’s Fahrenheit).

Not much is still blooming or pretending to bloom out there. That Gaillardia blossom looks a bit too perfect for me to believe it’s not frozen to perfection, waiting for the wind, snow, and truly cold temperatures to turn it brown. Or maybe a moose will walk by and eat it. My snow-colored Alyssum, which seeds around with something quite a bit less than enthusiasm (two seedlings, sheesh!), is still a mound of stark white. A few purple Penstemon blooms ignore the cold, Achillea, Papaver, Viola as well.

Waiting for death, or the long winter’s nap, any day now in my garden.

 

Frost/no frost? When does your garden rest for a season?

They’re alive for now

The end of summer and it’s wonderful warmth seems to come a little later each year here in Alaska. I have no complaints. As a child, I remember thinking that when school starts, summer ends, no matter the date on the calendar. With climate change (and our increasingly hot summers and mild winters), autumn is a season we seem to get a little more of each year, and for that, I am truly thankful. It is my favorite season.

The birch and cottonwood leaves are beginning to turn their various shades of brown, yellow, and gold. The strappy fireweed leaves have gone red and purple. Everything is wet, because it rains nearly every day, and our high temperature has plunged down in the 50’s (that’s in the teens for you Celsius people). I will not write of the low temperature, the potential kiss of death. So far, I’ve been spared.

I have a pile of various pruned organic bits moldering in the garden cart, and an edging tool with a pair of purple garden gloves on each side of the handle like antlers, both left for a moment that turned into days, sopped on the gravel. Everything waits. For the gardener, or for the frost.

How long will those dahlias bloom? Will I get another week out of the golden hop vine? Will that spirea ever get a decent shade of red? Are my garden chores going to be completed before the snow flies? The mysteries of autumn abound.

Have you said goodbye to summer? Any plant casualties of temperature to report?

The curtain falls, but not today

 

There is a persistent garden legend around here that has begun to annoy me. I heard it again the last week of July from a new-to-gardening friend. I told her that her container plants looked really thirsty (my thoughts were more like, “All that money you spent on those annuals is going to go down the drain if you don’t water them today!” Yeah, they were really that close to death. Her response? “It doesn’t matter, right? They are just going to die in a week anyway.”

Au contraire, my friend. I have plants blooming into October (stop laughing everyone)! I told her she had a good month or 6 weeks left of her container and to keep watering it.

What was blooming, September 23rd, in my garden*:

1. Salvia

2. Achillea

3. Alyssum

4. Dahlia

5. Petunia

6. Papaver

7. Verbascum

8. Penstemon

9. Periscaria nummalaria aurea

10. Viola sp.

11. Sedum

12. Moss

What was blooming, October 17, in my garden:

1. Salvia

2. Achillea

3. Alyssum

4. Penstemon

5. Moss

*You’ll notice this list is not very specific as far as variety, but my computer (to put it in the evocative language of someone that lives at my house but shall remain unnamed) “took a dump” and my plant list is looking something like $%^&&*>"*!@#

There was quite a drop off in types of plants in bloom over the course of about a month, but still, it’s something! It should give heart to those who assume Alaska has a three month window of bloom that ends like a guillotine on midnight, August 31st.  And for the record, it hasn’t snowed yet at my house. Woohoo!!

 

What is the die-off date in your area?

Caught up in events beyond my control, as usual

I suppose dirty diapers or stomach upset fall into this category as well.  But I am really referring to several agenda items to canvas from my recent jaunt to Florida.  Plants will be mentioned, if only to maintain my claim to the subcategory “garden blog”.  (Really, I should just have done with it and call this a blog about nothing.)

Firstly, a lifelong Alaskan doesn’t often look so sharp in 90 degrees Fahrenheit.  A partially melted ice cream sundae looks more put together.  I did my best by packing my newly acquired linen clothing (why do I need linen in Anchorage? It’s about 70F on a hot day) and channeling Katharine Hepburn. 

The effect, once the sun/heat hit me, was more “celebrities without their makeup”.  My bit of makeup seemed to pool up about chin level and drop in spatters onto the pavement, where I could have fried the proverbial egg.  That would have been more healthful than all the donuts consumed over the course of ten days of family reunion-ing.

Secondly, I spent less time in lines that I had supposed.  The longest was about an hour.  The result of that wait: getting deluged to the point of actually ringing my skirt and shirt out upon exit.  However, the sodden underpants were more refreshing than an adult has any right to admit. 

This wet ride, Bluto’s Bilgewater (or something like that) at Universal Studios, was a true water ride. As in, you will be taking a lot of water home or down the path at least, and an hour later, will still be looking as if you wet your pants. (Sorry for all the commas in this post, I blame, jetlag.)  The water ride at Disneyworld a few days later was quite a letdown.  Only my right sleeve was soaking wet.  Just not good enough when one is melting like a pat of butter.

Thirdly, I thought nothing could be more exciting than running with the reindeer, but Florida proved me wrong.  The sleepy little beach town of New Smyrna was an eye opener.  Not only was I caught up in my first pub crawl (quite perplexing for a teetotaler like myself) but about half of the crawlers were clad in red dresses.  Doesn’t sound so bad, and rather posh, but hairy chests bursting from scarlet satin are still rather rare in Alaska, so forgive the ignorance. 

Some of the men looked rather fetching in their frocks and were brave, too.  The tail end of a biker fest was being feted at the very same bars.  Can’t say I saw any of the Harley Davidson crowd in a red dress, but it must be rather difficult to mount a motorcycle in a miniskirt.  Me and my lot of squares just ate our yogurts (bacon flavor-who knew there was such a thing?) and watched the crowd, secretly expecting someone would be thrown through the front window of a bar before our eyes.

Fourthly, (is that a word?) what’s with all the houseplants?  Types I beg and threaten in turns grow into the sidewalk cracks here with a jungle-like abandon.  The shopping malls in Florida even have better landscape fodder than the most blooming and lush specimens here in Alaska. (I didn’t see any dandelions.  There, that’s one thing we grow better!)  I freely admit it: I am jealous of all this botanical vigor.

Fifthly, and lastly, a rundown of things I learned:

*wear sunscreen, stupid!

*do NOT eat at Pinocchio’s cafeteria two times in a row

*if wearing a skirt on a wild amusement park ride, use hands to hold down skirt unless you have a desire to flash everyone (I really am sorry about that!)

*try a frozen Butterbeer, after, I repeat, after you ride Harry Potter’s Forbidden Journey

*perfect the art of pulling out your swimsuit wedgies as quickly as possible, so as not to flash everyone, yet again (so sorry, but I know you water park life guards have seen worse) at the bottom of the breakneck speed waterslide

*I (still) do not fare so well on long plane rides.  Orlando to Seattle: sanity in question, Seattle to Anchorage: insane, but welcome home

I loved Florida so much I was almost pressed into buying a timeshare.  Too bad twelve airplane hours with my six-foot frame cramped and near starvation (you call those peanuts sustenance?!) are what separates us.  I think I’ll try the west coast for the next family vacation.  Or even better, maybe somewhere within driving distance…I’m turning into a travel grump.

 

Vacation tips? Places you love to visit?

*Blurry picture with a portion of the red dress pub crawlers includes my brother-in-law, who insisted upon posing with this group

Well. That was quick.

A faithful reader in the northwest USA gently berated yours truly for being so spotty about writing the blog lately. Duly chastened and slightly abashed, I disciplined myself to ponder pertinent Alaska gardening topics.  Just moments later I was done pondering and a sense of finality settled into my brain. We’re all done here.

Of course I’m speaking of summer, and not of the mental state of Alaskans at large (though this might also be apt).  A few days ago some ominous-looking cloudy riff raff deposited dandruff on the lofty peaks to the east.  I suppose it must be snow but I’m not hiking up there to find out.  Curses!  The termination dust is here!

For those unfamiliar with the term, it has nothing to do with Arnold Schwarzenegger, nor unsightly accumulations of particles under your bed.  Opinions vary, and if I were one for research I would find out which is the most plausible (or on a good day, factual).  However, Camp A insists the term “termination dust” was coined by those souls who believed the first dusting of snow on the mountains signaled the end of an all too brief summer.  Camp B shrilly maintains that the reference actually comes from the practice of laying off (firing) seasonal workers at the end of the summer.

I’m with camp A.  Our summer is about ten days long.  OK, I’ll throw in that sunny day we had in May and make it eleven.  By the time my petunias, dahlias, and fuchsias are reaching their peak, it seems like a crime of nature that frost should take them.  (And yes, I had a banner year of growing sophisticated garden plants.  Have I mentioned I grew hot pink pelargoniums, too?)  So when the white stuff is sighted on yonder lofty peaks, a constriction of the airways is not uncommon in gardeners here.

Sadly, I have to announce I put my containers away for the year.  (Now, now, dry your eyes.)  It seemed only natural after mowing the lawn one final time last night.  There was perfectly good icy blue Lobelia growing in one particularly fine container.  Good (as opposed to ratty, rip it out posthaste) Lobelia in September is akin to a good hair day without using conditioner: good luck. 

This particular container was a study in texture, or at least, that’s what I told myself as I rammed different blue leaved plants into the dirt with little method and most likely a spot of madness this spring.  The lobelia was a surprise.  I don’t usually (OK, ever) use it as it’s been done to death in my city and can be fussy on sunny days with it’s watering requirements.  I picked it up at a nursery that was offering a free 6-pack for Mother’s Day.  What gardener can resist a pack of free plants?  Apparently, not I.  Heaven help me if they start offering some kind of weed for free.

Anyone a fan of the children’s book “Goodnight Moon” by Margaret Wise Brown?  An homage in the spirit of the season, by the Last Frontier Gardener:

Goodnight grass Goodnight mower cutting the grass

Goodnight sunlight and the red afternoon

Goodnight grizzly bears

Goodnight lawn chairs

Goodnight outdoor sittin’ and hello mittens

Set back clocks and put on wool socks

Goodnight garden tool abuse and hello cranky, hungry moose

Goodnight fork and goodnight hoe

Goodnight nobody Goodnight grow

And hello to the cold wind whispering “snow”

Hello bright stars Goodnight warm air

Goodbye summer everywhere

No doubt Lord Byron looks down fondly on me now.  Or else he’s getting ready to hurl a lightening bolt.  I don’t often feel poetic so this is a rare treat for you all.  If I get any more complaints, gentle or otherwise, I may riff on “Back in Black” by AC/DC.  So there, you’ve been warned.  Bundle up, winter is coming.

 

Are you ready for the next season?  Or content and hoping it will never end?

Why do I curl up in the fetal position, you ask?

If that particular pose isn’t your thing, a primal scream is a good equivalent.  On several occasions in the past month, I’ve caught myself in the midst of a fervent wish to be: 1. locked in a padded, dark room, 2. myself, about two seconds earlier, before I’d seen/heard the horror, or 3. shopping for expensive leather goods. 

The only feasible choice at the moment is rather impractical.  The attic is somewhat padded (I should know, I spent my birthday loading a hopper with cellulose insulation whilst the husband used the long hose to blow it all around the bottom of the attic.  Happy birthday to me!) and certainly dark.  I don’t have the energy to procure a ladder, boost the ceiling hatch, and fling myself into the void up there.  Though no doubt that would be something to write about and very entertaining to watch.

Things I would have rather not seen, in no particular order:

1. the giant, gaping hole in my floor. And wall. And ceiling. And in that chasm, a leaking pipe from the kitchen sink that has probably been leaking for 25 years. The moisture and decaying food bits were supporting their own little ecosystem.  Strange looking flies lifted off en masse, mold flourished, and spiders scuttled out of sight.  What with the bamboo flooring ripped out, carelessly tossed into a pile of long sheaves and the stink emanating from the darkness below, it was too much for me.  I walked back the way I came in a haze and resolved never to respond to “Honey, I think you need to see this” ever in the course of my whole life.

2. those yellow leaves on the wild cottonwood (Populus balsamifera) trees.  At first, such infrequent sightings were forcefully brushed off as disease or a result of all the rain we’ve had in August.  Now there is no denying it: vandals are spray painting all the leaves around town a bright gold!  The nerve of some people.  A simple soul in the home dared bring up the word “autumn” and the result was just shy of apoplexy.  “Mommy, why are you clenching your teeth and tearing your hair like that?”

3. a story and X-ray of a gardening mishap so horrifying that I must caution you of feeble stomach not to visit this link.  To prepare you, a quote from one of the surgeons, Dr. Lynn Polonski: “It was wedged in there so tightly, you could not move it.  It was part of his face.” I will never look at, much less carry my felco hand pruners in quite the same way.  I say, he’s lucky to be alive and if his lady friend and team of surgeons ever let him garden again, I recommend a pair of child-sized safety scissors, welder’s shield, and ten-foot tongs to carry any gardening paraphernalia.

So in the last 30 days, I’ve had thrown in my face the awful fact that my basement is a smelly man trap supporting new, unnamed lower life forms, winter is coming in a week or so, and gardening can kill you.  Does curling up into a ball on the floor sound so bad?

*Pictures taken at the Alaska State Fair in Palmer last week.

 

What scares the pants off of you?

Gardening disease identified: beware!

Don’t worry, this is another fluff piece.  I’ve been around the gardening block a few times, but thankfully I still get pleasantly surprised by a plant here, a concept there.  You can only be cynical about so many things in life before it becomes a bit toxic.  So imagine my glee when I read about “Gardening Withdrawal Syndrome.”  I can thank our dear and charming President…no not him!  I mean Jane B., of the Anchorage chapter of the Alaska Master Gardeners for this nugget of info.

She warned via email one of the symptoms of this malady is the old “rage against the dying of the light” approach for climates that have a winter dormancy period.  For her, onset begins when she takes cuttings of many perennials and annuals and attempts to winter them over by rooting them in water in the garage.  So what if you lose half of them to rot, she says, you still have a bunch more ready and waiting for next spring.

Maybe I’ve seen too many TV dramas, but aren’t withdrawal syndromes characterized by shakes or seizure of some kind?  Or is it vomiting and frothing at the mouth?  I’ll count shivering through winter as shakes, if you don’t mind.  My Gardening Withdrawal Syndrome symptoms are not as useful, productive, or as thrifty as Jane’s.  Yes, I know, another big surprise for the readership.  I’ll rank them, as I seem to be on a list fetish lately.

1. Looking out the window…a lot and with an accompanying frown.  “Yup, the snow is still there” or “Look, the moose ate the trees again.”

2. Reading and rereading nursery mail order catalogs.  Morphine for those amidst a long winter’s gardening hiatus.

3. Ordering plants I don’t need, aren’t hardy, and/or are unaffordable.  If they are located across the country with an absurdly high shipping charge, so much the better.

I realize the symptoms will vary from individual to individual.  But I’m wondering if they also vary by geography, country, gardening zone, etc.  I can just barely fathom there are those unaffected by this syndrome, such as those that garden in a very mild climate.  Or maybe they just have lots of hobbies….  

Are you having symptoms of GWS?

Plant of the Month: September 2010

The containers have been hauled away, the garden art removed, and the tools duct-taped and trucked off.  If the prospect of moving had been a mere germ of an idea, tucked safely away in the back of my mind (under the rug in a spare room there), having a garden empty of ornamentation and tools has made me think seriously about it.  Well, as seriously as the Last Frontier Gardener thinks about gardening and moving, which sadly isn’t very.

With this new minimalist palette sans junk (see photo below for a visual of a bit of the junk packed off) I have, choosing a favorite for month number 9 should be simpler than usual.  No more being influenced by my favorite garden decor in the vicinity.  Scrolling through months past here, here, and here, I notice almost all of my choices for “favorite” are in the immediate vicinity of the rusty salmon.  Rather than think I’m shallow enough to be swayed by fish made of an old bathtub,  I’ll just content myself with thinking all my favorites have been repeated throughout the backyard therefore I can’t help but choose one near the three groups of fish.  There, that sounds better.

Now that my conscience is assuaged, I can finally get to the point: the most useful plant for September in my garden.  For those further south (which is pretty much everybody, right?), September is sometimes known affectionately as “early winter” here in Alaska.  The plant palette is, how shall I put this…subdued.  Many plants touted to transform into bright reds or oranges freeze just as they are showing their beautiful color, become brown, and hang in the tree or shrub until the gale force fall winds take them.  And perennials, don’t get me started on “selections for autumn”.  Sedums do all right.  The salvias and veronicas are iffy.  I kill Asters by the score (including the orange one in my first photo), so don’t even think of recommending one to me.  If I had a dollar for every time I’ve planted ‘Alma Potschke’, I’d be able to bankroll a political candidate.  (No, not really, but I can’t help but have politics on the brain.  Every news website has ads for them, every street has signs for them, and every radio station projects their voices.  Thank heavens for democracy and the ol’ republic and all, but I am so sick of the political ads!  Some wise soul remarked they’d rather be governed by 300 people randomly chosen from the phone book, than by the choices we have now.  Amen brother!)

OK, now I am really getting to the point after a lengthy ramble.  For those that stuck it out, my choice for September is Alopecurus pratensis ‘Variegatus’, or golden foxtail grass.  And just to be difficult, you can also find this one under ‘Aureovariegatus’ or ‘Aureus’.  Locally this grass is unusual, so check the Alaska Botanical Garden nursery first: it’s where I got mine, as divisions of display garden specimens.  No one else wanted them, if you can believe it.  Or check out Fritz Creek Nursery in Homer, which does mail order in Alaska.  

What: a cool-season grass, one of the first perennials to show it’s face in spring, mostly clumping and not invasive/cheeky/seeding around for me

Where: full sun (more upright) to shade (floppier, in my experience); tolerant of many soil types, moisture levels (the more moisture, the floppier, also in my experience)

When: early spring emergence almost electric chartreuse, yellowish (in sun) in summer, yellow to dull yellow/green in autumn, under snow in winter so no clue as to winter performance other than it survives zone 3/4

Why:

1. smashing leaf color, excellent with blues, violets, reds, oranges, anything with an electric hued flower;

2. as with other grasses, the contrast of linear leaf shape with the bigger leaves of other perennials/shrubbery is a textural delight (no flowers necessary);

3. low maintenance (I do remove the inflorescences as they are rather sparse), no bugs, staking, or fertilizing necessary at my garden

4. looks good in a mass or by itself

And an autumnal boost for those of you that stayed with me: it’s 46 degrees Fahrenheit in my back yard right now.  Makes you feel better, doesn’t it?  (Except you poor lot in Fairbanks and beyond…so sorry.)

Any favorites for the month of September?  Any political ads driving you up the wall?

Games garden bloggers play

There comes a time in every Alaskan’s year when the transition from outside pursuits to inside pursuits takes place.  Depending on the weather, it can be in October, September, or in the case of this year, June.  We’ve had a record year of consecutive rainy days (I feel your pain Seattle, Brazil, England).  Then cloudy.  Now cold.  So I feel cheated about the whole summer gardening season.  Since I have transitioned to the inside stuff (whether I want to or not) it seems appropriate to mark the occasion with something I can do indoors.

Bangchik, a garden blogger growing all kinds of unheard of vegetables (in the cold, frozen north of Alaska at least) in Malaysia, has kindly asked me to stop shivering long enough to list 10 Things I Love.  I don’t usually take time for online games, but what else is there to do?  Certainly nothing outside at the moment.  The containerized Phormium in residence agreed with my assessment of the now cold nights outside and was dropped off at the nursery’s balmy greenhouse for the winter on Friday.  I asked if they had room for me but the price was too exorbitant, so here I am.  Batten down your tarps and put on your quiviut hats because we’re off: 

1. Italian leather shoes.  It all started with one pair, justified because of the sale price and an upcoming wedding in the family.  Now I have to move into a home with a bigger closet.  And the LFG hubby is talking about getting a side job at the gas station.  I may be wearing rubber boots or flip flops six days of the week in summer, but watch out on Sunday when I get the peep toed heels out.  Ka-zam!

2. Chubby kid cheeks, preferably clean ones.

3. Sunshine on the couch, warming it to the perfect temperature for napping.  Do I ever get a chance for that nap?  Usually the first five minutes, then “ring, ring” or “mommy!”  Someday my nap will come.

4. Crunchy dill pickles.  Absolutely no sweet or squishy ones.

5. A good hair day.  I think possibly this falls in with numero uno in being mostly a woman thing.  Men, am I wrong?

6. Ornamental grasses like Nassella tenuissima, backlit in the autumn sun.

7. Hearing people I love laugh, most likely at me.  They say they’re laughing with me, of course.

8. Front yard gardens: unique, funky, vegetable, jungle-like, anything goes as long as it’s not just lawn and one shrub.  (Though I must say, I don’t care for the broken down cars or blue tarps adorning some front yard “gardens” here in Alaska.)

9. Being done with housework…for the moment anyway.  I can hear the dust settling as I type.

10. To my shame, cheesy music like ABBA, Bee Gees, etc.  “If you change your mind, I’m the first in line.  Honey, I’m still free.  Take a chance on meeeee.” 

Am I the only one who loves having a good hair day?  Maybe the infrequency of such a thing makes it that much more precious, sort of like a non-rainy day this summer.  My hair often has twigs or a stray bug in it during the gardening season, so the bar is set pretty low.  Pathetic or empowering, you decide.

What do you love/hate on my list?  Please don’t tell me I’m the only one with a few cheesy CD’s lying around….

Something misty this way comes....

You could actually breathe the moisture in the air, it was so heavy.  Sort of like North Carolina minus, oh, about 40 degrees.  It made for some fun picture-taking weather though.

The Bergenia are coloring nicely.  Also pictured are Viburnum (several different kinds) and Geranium 'Johnson's Blue'.  And ornamental grasses, but of course (Deschampsia, Arrhenatherum, and Calamagrostis).

Take some pictures now while the weather is decent.  This winter when all the mail order mags start arriving, refer back to your photos.  They will be a reminder of what you need (something vertical, or bold, or evergreen, or with a blue flower, etc.) so you can focus, sometimes a difficult proposition while oggling all those botanical beauties in the catalogs.  "I want that! and that! and that! and that!!"  Am I right? 

Have you planted your bulbs yet?

Lucky for me, this year I only planted about 5 small bags. Some years I plant hundreds of bulbs so it was a welcome change to be done in two half-hour bouts. I still bought too many. It's easy to tell when that happens because one or more of the following things happens: 1. the process takes so long you need a visit to the chiropractor for your lower back, 2. you are clean out of planting sites and still holding a sack of 200 daffodils, or 3. your dug-up yard is starting to resemble a prairie dog colony.

And what did I choose in this season of apparent restraint in my bulb purchases? Allium moly (cheerful yellow spheres), Allium sphaerocephalum (dark violet), Muscari ameniacum (blue grape hyacinth), Narcissus 'Sundial' (a miniature yellow daff, very refined-looking).

Advice for next year: buy the so-called minor bulbs, like Scilla, Crocus, and Allium. You can plant a lot more in a hole versus the big daffs and tulips. There are still some bulbs out there for the procrastinator. Just be sure to choose healthy-looking, plump ones with the tunic (onion -like covering, usually a brownish color) intact. If it looks wizened or feels squishy, keep moving.

What (if anything) is still blooming in October?!

Bleak is the word. No trees flowering. A few of the rugosa roses are blooming, namely 'Hansa', 'Marie Bugnet', 'Henry Hudson', 'Wild Spice', Potentilla 'Abbottswood', and a newly planted dogwood, Cornus 'Prairie Fire'.

The list of perennials in bloom is longer, fortunately. Let's see, we have a couple of blossoms of Geranium 'Johnson's Blue', several Clematis macropetala varieties in a second wave of bloom, Phlox paniculata 'David', Geranium prostrate mystery variety (baby pink), Veronica 'Giles Van Hees', 'Alba', 'Mann's Variety', Achillea 'Paprika' and 'Terracotta', Penstemon 'Bashful', Gentiana semptemfida var. lagodechiana, Astilbe 'Feuer', Rudbeckia, a gold tufted mystery variety, Ligularia 'Othello', Monarda 'Marshall's Delight' and 'Petite Delight', Periscaria 'Blackfield' and 'Orangefield'. One grass that is still blooming is Calamagrositis brachytricha. It is new to me this year, so I am crossing my fingers. I am a sucker for ornamental grasses. They make my yard look dynamite in the fall, and the rest of the year, too.

Some annuals are still going strong. Re-seeders, my favorite types, include, snapdragons and sweet alyssum. The sweet peas are still good, none crisped by frost, and smelling delightful. In my containers I still have some lovely geraniums (Pelargonium), Lamium, Viola, Oxalis, Dahlia, petunias, a Nemesia or two, Fuchsia, and Euphorbia.

Container foliage plants that look nice today include ornamental kale, Lamium, brown sedge grass (Carex 'Red Rooster'), blue fescue (looks amazing!), Heuchera, Sedum 'Autumn Delight', and Oxalis.

July, it isn't. But I submit the colors and blooms of October are a miracle in and of themselves in Alaska and I am grateful. If you have taken a tour of your own Alaskan garden and find it a little short on bloom this time of year, take note. When the mail ordering frenzy of January rolls around, try to find some room for fall bloomers.

(It's official: today, October 2nd, was the first hard frost at my place.)

Now or later?

I got a call yesterday from an acquaintance desiring to know if this was the time to cut back perennials and whether it should be done at all. I told her it's optional: you can do trimming back now or later. But I recommended later. As in springtime.

For me, when temperature plunge, it's rather easy to choose later for any and all outdoor tasks. In Alaska, later also has a practical value. Perennials that are not cut back protect the crown and roots from exposure and frost heaving. Sounds a bit like what happens after a plant "all night-er." The point is, you want the temperature to remain steady around the crown. Usually the snow makes a great insulating blanket for us but occasionally we get a warm snap in the middle of winter and it melts away. Sunlight beating down on a beautiful 6 degree February day will warm up any exposed soil. Bad for plants. Avoid exposed soil in winter around perennials if at all possible. Leaving the dead herbaceous part of the plant intact increases the liklihood of survival, in my experience.

I do have a few exceptions to this "leave it" rule. If the plant was a diseased mess over the summer, cut it back. If the plant seeds around like it's going out of style (hello, Alchemilla mollis!), at least cut the seed heads back. And if the plant turns into a gooey mush at the first hard frost, well, I cut those unfortunates back, too (hello again, Alchemilla mollis, old friend!).

In the "cut back no matter what" category: peonies, to the ground, if you please. If you happen to mention to a peony grower that you did not cut your peonies back, prepare for some hyperventilating. They are frightened of that scourge of all things peony: Botrytis.

Next post: what is still blooming. Should be a short one.

Nepeta (catmint) before and after the shears, just for demonstration purposes. I usually don't cut this one back.