After Tropical Storm Irene stripped the color from so many trees around here back in August I was pretty pessimistically convinced that fall color would be lousy this year. And maybe that’s why it has seemed especially spectacular. There’s less of it to be sure, and it was more sudden and fast passing than usual (maybe because there’s less of it) but the reds seem deeper and the yellows and oranges more intensely glow-y.

New England fall is a gift. The leaves from our deciduous forests and gardens, colorful or not, are a huge bonus. I still can’t believe anyone would bag them up as garbage. I love the look of freshly fallen leaves carpeting the ground, and the renewable resource dust-to-dust cycle of nature really appeals to my inner lazy gardener. But of course there’s nothing lazy about leaving the leaves. Almost all of us who keep them from the landfill, at least pick them up and put them back down someplace else. It’s how we participate in the cycle.

At home I rake what few leaves fall in my yard straight into my garden beds. This gives critters like spiders, bumblebees and butterflies a place to overwinter. The plants don’t mind and aren’t smothered. (No oaks leaves fall in my yard – they have more of a tendency than any other to form an impenetrable mat.) Come spring, all I need to do is make sure the crowns of plants peek out. Other gardeners also rake extra leaves into piles. Gail says that by spring her pile of whole leaves is as soft and half decomposed as if it had been shredded – perfect for mulching her beds with. Still others mow the leaves. Leaves left in a thin enough layer that the grass still shows will provide nutrients for a healthier lawn. If the clippings are bagged, they may be used as nitrogen-rich mulch in the garden.

Here we do a bit of all three. Fred and Dan make a first pass over the property with mowers and graciously dump the clippings in the vegetable bed. They also blow the leaves off of the lawns and vacuum them up truckload by truckload. This year we realized that the vacuum did a good enough job of shredding the leaves that we saved several days and gallons of gas not passing them through the leaf shredder. The pile has already settled quite a bit and Gail and I have mulched all of the Display Garden beds to save weeding them later.

I know I ask this every year, but please refresh my memory – what do you do with your leaves?

(click on pictures for larger view)

It’s almost 70 degrees outside, the air is feather-soft, the sky is blue-blue and the sun has that golden, get-under-your-eyelids slant. It’s the kind of day that absolutely insists that we get outside. We should be looking for fall color and reindeer moss, or sitting back against a warm wall with our eyes closed, or propping up fallen seedheads…

I had to look up Indian summer to see if this would officially qualify and it must. The definitions say that it’s that spell of warm weather after frost and right before the ground freezes solid and snow covers everything. It’s also the thaw that comes later in the winter – January or February – that feels so much like spring. Perfect time for an Indian raid evidently, which explains the name. According to Wikipedia, other countries call it things like “Old Ladies’ Summer”, “Little summer of the quince”, “Golden October”; and “a tiger in autumn”. (I have to say, I like those names better.)

We’ve had frost – we even had a dusting of snow – but it hasn’t been cold enough to do absolutely everything in (maybe because of this Old Ladies’ summer we’re having.) It’s been interesting to note the survivors particularly among the annuals. The lettuce in the raised bed is perky as ever; borage is fine and so is most of the nicotiana, agastache, and the salvias. What Dahlias were left in the ground went not in the snow surprisingly, but over a cold night a couple of days after that. Unfortunately we had to take most of the other annuals out – particularly in the cutting garden and North Garden – and I would have liked to see which were the ones made of tougher stuff. Some of my neighbors still have zinnias blooming… What annuals survive the first frosts in your garden?

I hope you’re outside right now (if you’re having this perfectly lovely Indian summer too) taking the opportunity to futz in the garden, lie back in the chaise, or collect bouquets of leaves. Come to think of it, what the heck am I doing still sitting in front of this comput—

There has been a lot of speculation ever since Irene blew through that this wouldn’t be a good fall foliage year. Even in the days after the storm the horizon – particularly anything facing south and east – has looked markedly brownish. And then we had our unseasonably freakish snow storm (little more than a dusting here but still…) and it’s easy to just give up and think winter’s here. But we’ve had lots of  days of lovely fall weather interspersed among the ugly days (we’re enjoying a blissful spell right now) and there is plenty of fall color. Pockets of it. We just have to look a little closer.

Despite the freakishly unseasonable weather that might make us think it’s too late to plant bulbs, it absolutely isn’t. We were able to stay right on schedule – this sunny and warm post-nor’easter week is a bulb planter’s dream. We were able to wait until frost (erm… snow) to take out the last of our annuals and dahlias – amazingly some still haven’t been fully hit despite cold nights. But out they came to make way for bulbs. The Deadheads planted over 1000 tulips and alliums in the cutting garden and other display garden beds on Tuesday; Over 300 more in the North Garden that same day; and this morning the Rockettes planted 1800 little bulbs in the Rose Garden (Chionodoxa, Puschkinia, Fritillaria, Anemone…) Tomorrow the Florabundas will finish up planting something like 400 more tulips and alliums in the Rose Garden. No matter how weird the weather is this coming spring we can look forward to (amazing) pockets of color then too.

This marks the last official work-week in the gardens for the garden volunteers (they still have the big Christmas tree to decorate) and our intern Tara who saw us through a full growing season. Gail and I will really miss everyone’s smiles, good-natured growls (Toni), hard work, stories, dedication and easy company. Come by for tea any time!

Are you finding – or planting – pockets of color too?