It doesn’t get any sweeter than s’mores and hot cocoa, and the night is never brighter than a bonfire. Or three. Blithewold’s new event, Christmas Sparkle, kicked off last Friday and as someone who is occasionally accused of being a humbug around the holidays (you might not know that about me…) I have to say it was just the sweetest, brightest, best thing. Maybe ever. And I didn’t even have a chance to hang out by the bonfires in the Enclosed Garden, roasting marshmallows and listening to carolers. Instead, I spent my evening with beaming visitors in the greenhouse, which we lit like a fairy house with tiny lights and tea candles.

Every year “the guys” (Fred – director of horticulture, Dan, and now Nick) create some kind of amazing light display on the grounds, and every year we say they outdid themselves. Well. They placed the bar pretty high this year. The magical icicles in the front lawn ginkgo, and handmade copper and jelly jar lanterns along the path from the mansion all the way to the greenhouse would have won the prize for best ever but there are more lights than that and at least one strand (or ten) in a very high place indeed. So you really should come by for a look. But not just a drive-by. This is the year to take a tour through the house if you haven’t yet — or even if you have — because everyone is saying it’s the prettiest ever. Then, either come back or stick around for a Friday night ramble down the path to the greenhouse for a cup of cocoa, stopping in the Enclosed Garden on the way to warm your fingers and marshmallows by the fire(s). If I love it, you will really love it. For more information about Christmas at Blithewold, click here (or here for concerts in the Living Room, and here for the Christmas Sparkle chorus lineup).

Right at the cusp of a season full of overwhelming delights, I discovered a teeny-tiny one. It’s a very small thing but for me, it was kind of huge. Ever since I found out that Aspidistra elatior, the famously boring Victorian houseplant, also known as cast-iron plant, has a flower, I’ve wanted to see it for myself. But I was never sure of the timing, and most days poor Uncle is way off my radar. It hardly ever even wants watering, for goodness sake. So just try to imagine the moment when I went to evict a pair from their pots (to use the containers in a Christmas display), and noticed the flowers! Picture me, all alone in the greenhouse, doing a little dance.

The flowers, right at soil level and mostly such a dark purple they practically match the soil, are completely incognito. Also since they open so close to the surface, the flower cups were full of bits of soil and perlite. It’s really no wonder I’ve been missing them all these years. But they’re so pretty. And while you might think that I’d leave them be and find a different pair of pots, I wanted a closer look at their full structure. (Click on pictures for a closer look yourself.)

I understand that this particular delight might not provide the same kind of thrill for anyone else but if you happen to visit the greenhouse – or for that matter wherever your travels take you throughout the holidays, I offer you the challenge of finding at least one small surprise to be delighted by. Maybe it will be these very same flowers…

Any holiday or page in a book set aside for expressions of gratitude is just the best thing ever. So I thought I should celebrate this Thanksgiving by at least attempting to acknowledge the the community of amazing people who make Blithewold Blithewold — everyone who keep this place so afloat that it practically flies. Most of them are volunteers.

The garden volunteers always get the lion’s share of my own personal thanks because they make my job infinitely easier and tons of fun, and the gardens infinitely more beautiful than they otherwise would be. (Without them Gail and I might still be trying to get June’s plants in the ground.) But an even greater number of volunteers work in the house, and more this season than any other. Without them we’d have to keep the doors to the mansion locked. That would be a real shame because thousands of visitors would miss seeing the entire house decorated – by volunteers – to illustrate Marjorie’s Grand Tour, Christmas-style. Aside from decorators, we rely on volunteer admission takers, shop keepers, raffle ticket sellers, phone answerers, tea makers and servers, and docents who immerse themselves in the history of the family and the house in order to better tell the story to visitors. There is even another group of volunteers working in the archives who dive in to Blithewold’s history head first. Without them none of us would have a clue how fascinating the family was. In fact, bits and bobs from the collection, things that Marjorie saved from her travels in Europe, are on display in every room.

I haven’t come close to mentioning everyone (the board of directors, committee members, interns, staff, — members, visitors, blog readers!) but as I go through Thanksgiving – and probably beyond — I’ll remember who I’ve left out. I just wanted to pass along how grateful I am to be a part of this community, doing work that I find wildly interesting. It doesn’t get any better.

Deepest thanks to all. And Happy Thanksgiving!

I just can’t help myself. The Japanese maples are totally knocking my socks off.

Since it’s forecast to be a beautiful weekend, why not come see for yourself? (The pictures don’t do it justice. Standing underneath one of these trees is like being submerged in pure pigment.) If you do visit, you’ll be guaranteed to catch a glimpse of what’s in the works for Christmas Sparkle too… (I’m not going to give that away here just yet.)

I think we gardeners are generally pretty good at finding color during a black&white winter but I still always feel like I should stock up before fall’s blaze dims. Even in the half-light of a gray day, oranges and reds, on Japanese maples especially, are so super-saturated right now that their leaves seem to fuse into a solid block of intensity. And I credit the yellow leaves for giving everything that strange glowy tawny tint though I should probably give all the shades of brown their due for that too.

And of course I wouldn’t want to diss the few things still – or starting to bloom. In honor of Garden Bloggers Bloom Day over at May Dreams Gardens (tomorrow), here are a couple of tried and true November bloomers. — I say these are November bloomers but the autumn flowering cherries (Prunus x subhirtella ‘Autumnalis’) in the Rose Garden have been my poster children for December the last few years. Evidently they loved our recent run of Indian Summer days. (Please excuse the blur – it’s impossible to get those tiny flowers to stand still on a windless day let alone a breezy one.)

Along with hording color, we’re also starting to forage for the bits and bobs we like to have on hand for embellishing the wreaths made in our upcoming (sold out!) workshops. Last year nature withheld her usual bounty but this year, not only is she being generous again, but we managed to find some treasures before they were whisked away with the fallen leaves. My only difficulty with task of foraging is having the fortitude to quit when tubtrugs and pockets are full. (I’m just as obsessive when I go to the beach. At least sweetgum seedpods don’t weigh as much as stones…)

Are you taking in Autumn’s last flash? And are you filling your pockets with treasures too?