Now that it’s officially autumn, illuminated by an exquisitely timed harvest moon, blanketed in morning fog and wrapped in the katsura’s scent of burnt sugar, I am going to have to finally let go of late summer and start calling fall by name. I’ve been sort of  stubborn about acknowledging calendar shifts (all except winter into spring – I always jump the gun on that one) but I like to think it’s just my peculiar and contrary way of making sure I remember to appreciate the current moment, no matter what its name is.

In any case, it doesn’t behoove a gardener to be too resistant to change. Nature is ephemeral and capricious after all, and we’d lose interest if it wasn’t. Our gardens teach us to pay close attention and take nothing for granted.

Just like gardening, flower arranging is an excellent exercise in letting go. Yesterday, Blakely Szosz, one of our diva volunteer flower arrangers demonstrated the tips, tricks and a few of the rules (once you know the rules, you can break them) that go into making artful arrangements. Part of the beauty of an arrangement – and part of what is so fascinating and heart breaking (just like gardening) – is that it is a living sculpture that is going to fade, wither and die. You’ve simply got to enjoy it while it lasts. And then make another. I have to admit that I don’t have a natural inclination to bring flowers in the house or make arrangements. I’d generally prefer to leave everything be (and to the bees) in the garden. But as the days get shorter, I can begin to see the appeal of bringing parts of the garden inside for an extended period of appreciation. And now my frustrated inner artist is inspired too… There’s one more flower arranging demonstration in the Autumn Splendor series next Wednesday at 11AM on the mansion’s north porch.

Do you cut flowers to bring in the house? Any particular time of year more than another? Do you create a work of art?

Even though it’s deliciously chilly, and even though the light has slanted dramatically southward, I’m still unwilling to call it fall. We’ve got another whole week before the autumnal equinox and the official start of autumn, so I insist on calling it (late) summer at least until then. The gardens will back me up I think. They are still in full swing and every day continues to be Bloom Day here. For Garden Bloggers Bloom Day (hosted by Carol at May Dreams Gardens) it might almost be easier to list what’s not in bloom – but of course I’m not about to do that. Much better to show you some of my current favorites and a few of the reasons why Blithewold is hosting Autumn Splendor, which runs from now through October 3rd and celebrates the floriferous pre-frost exuberance of the gardens. Click here for information about afternoon teas, lectures, exhibits and demonstrations – such as flower arranging on the north porch the next two Wednesdays at 11AM. If you’ve only been to Blithewold for Daffodil Days, it’s high time to come back.

Is your garden still in full swing? What’s blooming?

By now you probably know that Hurricane Earl gave us a miss. The wolf at the door turned out to be a tiny puppy who made a scritching sound just like crickets in the middle of the night. When we came in the next day to check for “damage” and to un-batten the hatches, we found the gardens looking refreshed and perfectly lovely. We certainly needed the rain (Earl dropped an inch and a little) and were desperate for a temperature change. I think all of the gardeners on the eastern seaboard could be thanked for fending off a potentially terrible storm because we so diligently prepared for it. Turns out that bringing potted plants inside, staking the tall plants and cutting back the brittle ones is just like lugging rain gear on a hiking trip: insurance that it won’t have been necessary. (We’re accepting thank you cards and gifts.)

Now that the weather has broken, I’m noticing all sorts of new (and old) blooms in the gardens and visitors are too. The most asked about plant in the Display Garden this week has been the bush clover, Lespedeza thunbergii ‘Edo Shibori’.  I’ve been surprised by the questions because my eye tends to pass right over this plant. This cultivar has tiny white blooms with a pink stripe that, to me, register as beige from a distance. I actually don’t think it’s very handsome at all. But it hums! Any plant that has its own soundtrack is certainly remarkable and worth another look – or listen. Bumblebees (more than any other kind of bee) can’t seem to get enough of the tiny pea blossoms.  The more I think I don’t like the plant, the more I find I do. (Is that a gardener thing or just me?)

Bush clovers bloom in late summer to fall – most are a pretty pinkish-purplish – on new wood. What that means for the gardener is that even if it doesn’t completely die back in the winter (which lespedeza tend to do in this neck of the woods), they can be cut back hard (within inches of the ground like a buddleia) to maintain a graceful hoop-skirt shape. Like any belle of the ball, they don’t want to be crushed into the backseat and don’t look as graceful crowded. Best to give it room to flounce and show off. They like well-drained soil (who doesn’t) and don’t bat an eye at drought. They don’t even need – or want to be fed. – Plants in the legume family are generally able to fend for themselves. Sweet peas excepted, of course.

Do you have a lespedeza? Do the bees love it? Do you? (And do you whack it back or let it go?)

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?