One of the most asked about shrubs on the property is the one that nearly hits us all in the nose as we walk towards the North Garden from the mansion. The Harlequin glory bower or Clerodendrum trichotomum stands at the very corner of the top of the North Garden wall and in August it really-truly does pack a wallop. The scent from its clustered white flowers is knock-out strong, even cloying, if it isn’t dissipated by a breeze off the water. But the shrub is almost more noticeable now that the bright blue – a kind of southwestern turquoise – berries have formed. And just so that we won’t miss the berries, they’re surrounded by glossy red calyxes. It’s a stunner of a plant and I’ve never seen a single visitor pass it by without stooping to look for its name.

The harlequin glory bower (also known as the peanut butter shrub because – and I never knew this until this minute and haven’t gone back out to sniff for myself – the foliage smells like raw peanut butter – who knew?!)  is listed as being hardy from zones 7-9 and is supposed to die back to the ground in the colder zones. Ours however, even in this exposed, zone 6 to 7ish location (only its feet are protected by the North Garden wall) has grown over the years into a very elegant specimen.

The species’ one liability is aggressiveness. It suckers like mad and seeds itself around – a bad combination that has earned it the reputation for being invasive. But I believe it isn’t in danger of escaping cultivation because the birds aren’t interested in the berries. Berries simply drop and grow where they fall. And you know me – I think any aggressive plant that can be easily controlled by an attentive gardener with a weeder or a spade (and shared with friends) is a keeper.

I might have already mentioned that the North Garden wall, which not incidentally is celebrating its 100 year birthday this very month, is going to be restored this winter. The shrubs along its edge will have to be removed, along with all of the plants in the beds below, before the project starts. I’m sad to see this one go but my hope is that it will survive the winter in a nursery bed. But if it doesn’t come through, I’m sure one of its pups will take its place, if not in that exact location again, then elsewhere on the property.

Have you met a Harlequin glory bower yet? Do you think it’s more of a menace or a miracle?

If it wasn’t for the thick morning fog we might not know that the seasons are in an indecisive transition. And if we didn’t crash through strands of fog-lit spiderwebs with every step we wouldn’t know we were sailing into fall.

It’s transition time for the gardens that feels a little like waiting out a slack tide. We’re still enjoying all the activity in the garden; excited to see brand-newly blooming flowers (a subject for another post) and we’re certainly not ready to let go of any of summer’s color or seed heads. Instead we’re spending more time on patrol for skrunky leaves and tenacious weeds. If you’re in the same boat, trying to keep your garden looking its best for a few more weeks, try cutting back old leaves from Japanese anemone (leaving the seed heads, of course.) There’s a life-raft of bright green foliage coming up inside the old – it makes a bigger difference than you’d think. And removing brown leaves from everything else – dahlias, phlox, veronica… is almost as gratifying as deadheading ever is. On the other hand, some plants blacken in a dramatic keep-able way. I wouldn’t dream of cutting down these cardoon yet (above, left) or even any of the echinacea.

We’ve got big projects on the horizon that we’re itching to begin as soon as the mansion closes for the season (after Columbus Day weekend; reopening the day after Thanksgiving for Christmas.) This winter the North Garden wall will be restored(!) and we need to move all of the plants out of the adjacent beds and into the vegetable garden-slash-nursery bed. The deadheads started making room in there yesterday (instead of deadheading.) We’ll also take that opportunity to get into the other North Garden beds to amend soil and relieve years of compaction. We’ve got another big perennial haul-out planned (we’ve had it with the daylilies and enormous asters) and we’ll do our usual musical-perennials with everything else, trying to get it just right for next year.

But for now we wait, fuss, and plan. Is your garden in transition too? Are you starting fall projects now or waiting until the last minute?

(Click on any picture for better view of webs, spiders, weeders, and fog.)

Along with everyone else along the Eastern Seaboard, we’re battening down the hatches and doing whatever we can to prepare for what looks to be a sizable storm. Some of us (that’s me) can’t help but remember last year’s hurricane-that-wasn’t: Good old Earl passed us right by and it’s tempting to think that maybe forecasters are crying wolf again with this one. But then there are others of us (not me) who were here for Hurricane Bob, 20 years ago last week. During that storm, Blithewold lost about 40 trees and another 40 plus died soon after. So we’re all (me too) watching this storm closely; doing what we can to prepare, and taking it very seriously.

Gail, Tara and I moved our most fragile container plants along with any that might act like sails or projectiles back into the greenhouse yesterday. And then Gail and I spent part of today moving a few more inside, tipping others on their side, and memorizing the gardens and taking pictures. It is a beautiful day – the calm before the storm…

The Rock Garden is the most vulnerable garden on the property because it’s so close to the Narragansett Bay shore. The storm surge is expected to be a big one and as it will be coupled with a high moon tide, that garden will likely be submerged sometime Sunday. And the North Garden is so exposed at the top of the Great Lawn that it’s the most likely to be wind damaged. We re-staked all of the dahlias and have to hope for the best. In the display garden, which is fairly protected by the bamboo grove and hedgerow of trees along the property line, we re-staked the dahlias and decided to allow the burnet (Sanguisorba tenuifolia) to flop onto crutches (a crisscross of bamboo stakes to protect other plants) so that they maybe won’t get wind-whipped. And Dick, Gail and Tree (Blithewold’s director of communications) went through and picked every ripe and almost ripe tomato from the vegetable garden.

Fred and Dan removed the shade sails from the arbor, some garden ornaments, and all of the outdoor furniture. Blithewold’s curator, Margaret has been securing the mansion’s archives – moving everything away from windows and covering furniture and artifacts with plastic. We’ll be closed for visitation for the whole weekend; tours have been cancelled and the tent will be taken down. The only thing left to do is wait – and watch.

Are you glued to the forecast too? What are you doing to prepare your garden and home for the storm?

Blithewold has got to be one of the prettiest places for a wedding: there’s nothing like being surrounded by on all sides by a glorious garden, and framed by a sweeping view of the Bay to make one of the greatest events in a couple’s life even more special and spectacular. For every couple who chooses this place for their wedding, it becomes an important part of their story but I would have to guess that not since Marjorie Van Wickle was wed here to George Lyon has Blithewold been such a huge part of a couple’s life as it is for our own Julie Murphy and Dan Christina (Blithewold’s education coordinator and asst. grounds manager.) Dan and Julie met and fell in love here!

Blithewold is written indelibly on nearly every page of their story and to those of us who have been a witness all along (or almost all along – they kept it a secret for a whole year!) to their love for each other, it seemed that there could be no more perfect place on earth for them to exchange vows than Blithewold’s North Garden. And even the rain, which fell on their day like a blessing after weeks of baking sun, was exactly right. They say rain makes the knot tighter but for a pair of horticulturists it also greens up the grass and makes their garden grow.

It’s a testament to Julie’s wish that those of us who work at Blithewold not have to work that I didn’t even bring my camera. But I wished I had! Thank goodness Gail had hers and took such excellent shots. Gail also had the honor of assisting garden volunteer Terry Converse who made all of the gorgeous flower arrangements, which were dotted with flowers and foliage grown with Julie’s colors in mind and picked from the property. The wedding really couldn’t have been lovelier – or more Blithewold.

Julie and Dan, may your life together continue to be full of love, laughter, and the riotous abundance of an August garden after a rainstorm! Sláinte!

(All pictures in this post were taken by Gail Read. Click on for larger view.)

The other day when Fred and Dan had the ladder out they invited me up on the north porch roof for a look at the North Garden. I’m a little bit scared of heights and ladders but I would never pass on a chance to see any of our gardens from a fresh perspective.

It’s ironic that even though we tend to draw out garden plans as if from a bird’s eye view (do you do that too?), we rarely get to see it that way as it grows. From up there the tapestry of our intentions is fully revealed. I could also more easily see the quiet places and the gaps in the patterns of colors and textures than when I stand right in front of them. (Knock wood, there were no actual gaps. – Sometimes by this time we’ve had to contend with the disappointment of a tired plant or two or ten…) But even my critical eye thought it looked so pretty I wished everyone could see it that way. And of course, it is possible to see that garden from a little ways back and a tiny bit above – from the north porch steps and railing. It’s actually clear from there that it was – and is – designed to be enjoyed from exactly that spot. (Click on pictures for a better view.)

And if you can’t get above your garden to really see it again the next best thing is to go down low. Yesterday I looked up from a weeding crouch within the display garden and was suddenly amazed at the size of the plants and the beauty of the combinations. It’s not that I can’t see and appreciate the garden it from 5′ or so off the ground but I had sort of stopped noticing, if you know what I mean. But then it is also time for me to go on vacation… It wasn’t until I saw Gail’s reaction to the gardens when she got back from her vacation that I realized again just how necessary time away is at this time of year: I had worked for a while in the Rose Garden on Monday and it barely registered that all of the roses still have healthy leaves AND they are in full June-like bloom again! (It’s July!) Thank goodness Gail came back to point that out. And now it’s my turn. I’m off to gain some even fresher perspective and hope to see you back here too in a couple of weeks.

Are you still noticing your garden’s gorgeousness?