Yesterday’s sky was dusted with those high flying cirrus mare’s tails and mackerel’s scales that precede a storm and the news is full of a tropical storm named for one of our groundsmen. As I write this, we still don’t know yet if we’ll be smacked around much by Danny but we’ve done what we can to prepare the gardens just-in-(worst)-case.

My great-grandfather, according to family legend, used to sit out in the rain with his plants and even risked his life (at least) once for the sake of his gardens. I don’t think I’m inclined to follow in those particular footsteps… We have already staked most of the dahlias and the Cutting Garden floppers but made the rounds again today to make sure everyone is snug as a bug, tied up tight (not too tight). And since sometimes big blooms, especially on dahlias or brittle glads, act like sails in the wind we went ahead and removed some of the hugest to save the plant and any neighbors. Apologies to today’s North Garden visitors…

Is there anything else you do to get ready for a storm?

Even if we don’t get a lot of wind it looks like a pretty big rain is coming. June and most of July were super wet, but we’re thirsty again already. I have my fingers crossed that the 2-3″ forecast are soakers rather than torrential washouts. Whatever is on it’s way we’ll have our work cut out for us on Monday – and no Lilah (Weed Woman) to help us anymore. Our intern extraordinaire is headed back to Bard just in time to dodge storm clean-up and/or watering detail and we’re going to miss her madly!

I want to make it very clear that no matter how hot and awful it is outside right now I am not ready for fall. So just in case you’ve got your hand on the season machine dial, please don’t turn it yet on my account. But even if we’re not ready for it, there are a few gentle hints of a change that are hard to ignore – dark mornings, lengthening light in the afternoon, and that one little red branch on all of the tupelos. Fall is for the trees but if you don’t mind I’d like to draw your attention away from the gardens (as if!) for a quick minute now – a little early, I know – to show off a tree I’ve never before mentioned on the blog and quickly tell you about a must-do up-coming event.

With a name like “Wingnut”, it’s actually surprising I haven’t mentioned this tree since that’s my favorite term of endearment for all of the loons in my circle of friends and family. But our little trio of Chinese wingnuts or Pterocarya stenoptera didn’t even show up on my radar until sometime in the last couple-three years. And then, just last week, Fred pointed out that one of them was all dressed up in nuts.

I had thought the wingnut was a big shrub or a small tree since ours are branched out low and very nearly spherical in shape. But if I think back, it seems they have been growing at a fairly prodigious rate and according to everything I’ve read, they’re destined to become enormous shade trees “which can be successfully used for large areas such as parks, schools, and golf courses…” according to Michael Dirr in his Manual of Woody Landscape Plants. So this is probably not a tree you’ll thank me for recommending for your own garden – unless you happen to have acres of park. We might have to be content with watching them grow here.

Chinese wingnuts are members of the walnut family (Juglandaceae) and prefer the usual cultural requirements – you know, fertile, moist well drained soil in full sun – but can tolerate tougher conditions once established and are hardy from USDA zones 6-9. Their feature of note and the reason I’ve pulled this post away from the gardens is that inconspicuous spring flowers are followed by the coolest strands of dangling nuts. Long pendulous chains fall from each branch like the fringe on a cowboy’s jacket. And the individual winged nuts look like they could just fly away. But before they fly, they’ll hang on for a while and turn brown as the tree’s lacy foliage turns yellow in the fall. Do you know this tree? Have you seen one full grown and bedecked?

Since I went and mentioned fall… Please mark September 28th on your calendar because, co-sponsored with the New England Chapter of the International Society of Arboriculture, the one and only Michael Dirr is coming to Blithewold for a day of slideshow lectures and a tree tour of the property. I can’t imagine missing that! For more information, click here.

I’d like to take just a moment to fulfill my duty as a New Englander and complain about the weather. For the past week or two it’s been hot. And not only has it been hot but the humidity has been in the 70 to 90-something percents (scientifically calculated based on perspiration index, I believe). Summer may have been late this year (check out when I started complaining about the heat last year!) but we’ve got it now and when I can’t find a way to cool off, I think it kind of stinks a little. But the plants – especially some of the annuals that love the heat – look like they’ve waited their whole lives for this moment and the gardens are positively busting out with exuberant color that seems to be just getting going. It’s even beginning to look like the tomatoes might ripen after all. I’ve heard some speculation that the late start might signify a prolonged summer season. Would you welcome that or have you already started looking forward to fall?

We just started watering the gardens this week – which is truly remarkable since, obviously, it’s the middle of August. And there were a couple of benefits to watering the gardens by hand that I sort of forgot about. Standing still gives me a chance to really critique the gardens and daydream a little about what it could look like next year. Although I must say that standing in the sun isn’t conducive to forming thoughts much beyond “Purple’s nice. I’m thirsty.”  I also love getting a chance to really tune into all of the in flight entertainment which is definitely one of the biggest garden treats of this time of year no matter what the weather. Hummingbirds, butterflies, moths, bees, dragonflies, the hawk – you name it, I was buzzed by it.

Fred and Dan recently repaired the cement pond in the Display Garden and since it seemed to be holding water, we decided to finally replant it and of course I raised my hand to be the one to jump in. Too bad for me that the room temperature water wasn’t more refreshing… But thank goodness the lotus and waterlilies survived dry land – in one short day, submerged leaves have broken the surface and they too are finally getting to pick up steam.

When did summer arrive in your garden?

Being in the garden every day teaches a valuable lesson in paying attention to the subtle changes but go away for a week or two and the changes will practically hit you over the head. Or they did me anyway. I had been waiting-waiting, mostly a little impatiently, for some things to grow and finally bloom but evidently all I needed to do was go away for a bit. I could have sworn that there was not a single bud showing on the glads and I’m sure the resurrection lilies were still fully buried when I left. It might not seem as dramatic in pictures, but here are a few shots of what is new to me at Blithewold:

Not only is it a kick to really see how fast the garden changes but I believe it’s all too possible for any gardener to burn out on the thing we love doing the most – even if the summer hasn’t always been as blazing hot as it is today. It’s good – healthy even – to give yourself permission to take a break now and then when you can especially between planting months. I have to admit though that a two-week break from my own garden would have resulted in utter mayhem – in one little week away my weeds threw a party and invited all of their friends. But when I got back to it I found I had a renewed enthusiasm for the tedium – I mean the Zen – of weeding. There’s a lot to be said for the pause that refreshes, don’t you agree?