It almost looks like we could ride this heat wave straight into fall. The Tupelo (Nyssa sylvatica) have been dropping bright red tokens since mid-July; the scent of ripe grapes hovers on whatever little breeze we can catch; the autumn crocus (Colchicum autumnale) are emerging from the ivy (a good 2 weeks earlier than last year); the dreaded schoolbus yellow is not only present in the gardens (black and brown-eyed Susans have been blooming since mid-July) but is suddenly on our roads too. While part of me is crying uncle! because of this summer’s relentless heat, the other part of me is nowhere near ready to let go. It can’t possibly already be September, can it?

Despite the fact that we’ve actually had an extra long and hot summer season, it still feels to me as if it only just started. In one way, that’s a little bit true. The gardens here – especially the Display Garden – are reaching their peak now. And barring some sort of natural disaster (Earl, step away from the gardens!) or the early frost that I’ve been pessimistically predicting since the daffodils came early, summer will be stunning for quite a while yet.

But first we’ve got to ride the wave. Gail and I are trying to get as much deadheading and weeding done in the gardens as we can first thing in the morning before copious sweat makes the sunglasses slide off our noses (we’ve given the volunteers a reprieve this week). And we’re keeping a weather eye on Hurricane Earl and family. Forecasters keep saying we’re in for it this year but we’ve got all fingers and toes crossed. – If that doesn’t work to fend off a hurricane, I don’t know what will.

Meanwhile, this is the best time for Gail and me to look over the gardens and make our annual assessments. We’ve grown plenty of plants worthy of rave reviews, put together a few winning combinations, and had our share of head-scratcher disappointments. All of which need to be documented (stay tuned). And of course we’re already kicking around ideas for next year’s gardens…

Have you started taking notes about this season (and next) – or have you been keeping track all along? Have you let go of summer?

I’ve always wondered a little at the seeming redundancy of the phrase “unexpected surprise”. But I think I get it now. I came back from vacation fully anticipating certain changes and was still caught off guard.

Even though the rain held off until my return, I knew that (unlike at home) the gardens here would grow and flourish on a carefully monitored watering schedule. One shocker in particular was in the Display Garden. The castor bean ‘Pretty Purple’, which is not only supposed to be a dwarf variety but was cut back last month, towers a good two feet over my head now. It takes my breath away (not literally of course – though it would if I tasted it.)

Another unexpected-expected surprise was the green-striped cushaw squash (Cucurbita mixta) in the vegetable garden. I knew we were growing a special squash… but, not knowing which one it was, I had no idea that it would be such a beauty. I have just learned that it typically grows in southern gardens and must be loving our tropical summer. I also had no idea that it is the one with a reputation for making extra super delicious pumpkin pie. – I expect to be surprised by the truth of that sometime around Thanksgiving…

I knew that a sculpture exhibit would be installed while I was away. Last week local artist, Paulette Carr placed several site-specific sculptures on the property for a show she entitled Vestiges: Traces of the Past. Gardeners are perhaps more tuned in than most to how the introduction of a new element – whether it’s a plant or an object – can dramatically change the perspective, mood and view of a space. It’s something we probably think about all the time without even being aware of it – and maybe for that reason the shift in perspective (mood, view) can come as a big surprise. My photos from this morning don’t do it justice – come experience Vestiges for yourself if you can before it comes down (the exhibit runs from now through October 2) and see how it surprises you.

Fill me in – what surprises have been growing in your garden lately?

I have looked at these gardens so much that even though they change everyday I can hardly see them anymore. It’s not that I’m tired of the garden – far from it. I still want to witness every little change. But it’s August and my eyes have grown accustomed. – It’s just like not being able to smell the roses for more than a few minutes whenever I work in the Rose Garden.

One remedy is to see the garden through someone else’s eyes – or camera lens. I love checking out the views that captivate our visitors just in case they’ll be new to me too. Michelle from Fine Gardening magazine posted some pictures on her blog, Garden Photo of the Day, that she took during a visit to Blithewold. For me, seeing her photographs (click here and here) in a different context than I’m used to, is like getting a glimpse of a whole other garden than the one I work in every day.

Another way to refresh the senses is to leave your own garden and look at another. Gail and Lilah and I took a trip to one of our volunteer’s garden in Little Compton where the views are entrancing and the plant combinations exciting. I hope that our visit – seeing their garden through our eyes – was as helpful to Gioia as the change of scene was for us. Gioia’s – and her husband Jim’s – garden will be open on September 11 as part of the Garden Conservancy’s Open Days Program. Go on tour, if you possibly can.

Gail just got back from her two-week vacation and her enthusiasm about how the garden grew while she was gone has been energizing for me. I can see now that it changed a lot. Lilah and I did tinker with it a bit though: The Allium christoffii are blooming all over again! (Who says a gardener can’t extend the season with a little spray paint?)

Now it’s my turn to go away for a couple of weeks. I’m ready to go – the last items on my to-do-before-vacation list were to fertilize the roses one last time before their final hurrah, and write this post. Check – and check.

I wonder how different the garden will look to me, what I’ll miss seeing come into bloom and what surprises might greet me when I return… Stay tuned. (I’ll be back to fill you in the week of August 23rd.)

Can you still really see your garden or do you find a change of scene refreshing too?