I have been focusing so intently on the gardens lately (I’ll post about why next week) that I think I might have been in danger of forgetting to get excited about fall color. But over the last few days the sun’s spotlight illuminated autumn’s very edges and gave me the reminder I needed to look up and out again. I’ve heard that the stars have aligned to give us a spectacular fall – we’ve had just the right amount of sun and rain over the summer and perfect temperatures now; no Hurricane Irene to brown the leaves prematurely like last year, and, knock wood, there aren’t any October snowstorms in the forecast. Whatever happens in the coming weeks, autumn already looks spectacular here. So bright and pretty that it’s hard for me to imagine that it will peak later. Maybe we’ll have a more gradual plateau of sustained gorgeousness…

Is fall shaping up to be a beauty in your garden too? – Are you remembering to look up?

Last Friday, after a mostly rainy-drizzly week, Gail and I spent part of a fog-burnt morning surfing the interwebs in the Display Garden. I know spiders are busy this time of year because I have peeled their webs off my face and out of my hair, but as the dewy network was illuminated, it was plain to see that no plant, no span, no airwave is left untraveled. Amazing.

(Click on pictures for a better view.)

Can you see – or feel – the spidery activity in your garden?

Tricia Bailey, our gardens intern this year, is a horticultural therapist by training and instinct has an infectious enthusiasm and energy for the work she clearly loves to do. She is even willing to write about it, which is a wonderful treat for me, and I believe will be a breath of fresh air for you. (See if you can feel it…) She and Gail clearly had fun working (playing) together to create a tour of the property that indulges and excites all of the senses. (Accompanying photos by Gail Read.)

Gail and I had the great pleasure of taking seven guests on our first sensory walk. It was Saturday, the first day of fall. The autumnal equinox is now upon us and with it the sky’s appearance changes, the colors are fading, the clouds are more expressive, the temperature slightly cooler and the air a bit crisper. It was a perfect day to enjoy our natural environment.

We had designed our walk to be a personal exploration with nature. We would stop at a chosen specimen where Gail would make the introduction and acquaint us with its plant biography and then I would encourage each guest to engage one or more of their senses for a more personal experience.

We decided to begin our walk among our majestic trees. It was so fitting for the beginning of our journey. Our sensory system is akin to being the roots of a tree. Without strong roots the tree cannot flourish and without a strong sensory foundation, we may not either.

During our walk we felt soft needles, hairy bark, rough cones and velvety catkins. We smelled the many plants that emit sweet, spicy, and woodsy tones. We listened for wind, waves, rustling grasses, birdsong and buzzing insects. We viewed colors, shadows, shapes, contrasts and reflections.

We finished our walk and indulged in refreshments that engaged the taste buds. We enjoyed sweet, sour and salty. We shared memories, laughter and conversation.

I’m reminded of the quote from English writer Hanna Rion Ver Beck –

“The greatest gift of the garden is the restoration of the five senses.”

Blithewold is truly a sensory delight.

Do you feel restored after a walk in nature?  Do you have a familiar sound, smell or taste that sparks a memory of good times?

Whole days go by now between hummingbird sightings and I just stood in the Display Garden with my camera poised for a good 15 minutes waiting to catch a glimpse of a monarch. They’re few and far between now. But just this morning I read a news blurb in the local paper that thousands of monarchs en route to Mexico stopped for a rest on Goosewing beach in Little Compton (click here to see the picture). If only they had taken a slight detour westward to visit us… I’m not sure if the monarchs we’re still seeing have come down from the North or if they have just been (re)born here — there are still plenty of caterpillars on the milkweed and butterfly weed plants. But I do know (because I looked it up like I have to every year) that these butterflies are the 4th generation great-grandchildren of the butterflies that began traveling up from Mexico last spring. Unlike their parents, grandparents and greats who only live 2-6 weeks as butterflies, these guys are made of tougher stuff. They’ll live long enough (up to 8 months) to make the journey back to Mexico, hibernate for the winter and mate in spring to circle the cycle back northward again. Wish them luck.

The hummingbirds we’re still seeing (which I can never seem to get a photo of) are making their way down from the North and stopping just long enough to tank up during their long journey to Central America. From what I understand, these travelers should be females and youth because the (older) males fly on ahead. I know some people took their feeders down during those few days when it seemed like our local birds disappeared for good, but if you leave it up – or leave plenty of late blooming salvias, porterweed (Stachytarpheta spp.), honeysuckle, fuchsias, and nicotiana in the garden, you’ll get on the migrant’s list of favorite roadside diners and those birds will return year after year. (Their average lifespan is estimated to be 3-4 years, which is pretty incredible considering their tiny hearts beat up to 1200 times per minute.)  And then don’t forget to put the feeder back out again in April/May.

Are you still seeing hummingbirds and monarchs in your garden?

The schoolbus yellow rudbeckias foretold the inevitable starting weeks ago. School has started in Rhode Island, it’s about to start in Mass., and suddenly the property has gone quiet. No more laughing camp kids in bamboo grove and vegetable garden, and fewer busloads of adults too. It’s as if a timer went off that says we all have to get back to work now just because kids went off to school. People are already talking about the “end of the season”. I object.

After all, summer is far from over. I’ll admit that some things, like tomatoes, are starting to show signs of slowing down. Last week we filled a crate to the top for the food pantry, and barely covered the bottom of it this week. But the gourds are still reaching for the moon, soybeans are coming, squash are growing (into baseball bats), and even lettuce is leafing. Not to mention all of the “cool crops” that are just getting going all over again.

There’s nothing quiet about the other gardens. They are as crowded and noisy as a schoolyard with pollinating and seed eating wildlife and are so jam packed with flowers it can be hard to find the paths in and back out again. These next couple of months are exactly the time we’ve been working so hard for all winter, spring, and summer. It’s a little bit ironic that right when everyone else goes back to work, we can finally take a bit of a breather to really look at and enjoy the gardens, assess our successes and discuss changes we might like to make next year.

Which isn’t to say that there’s nothing else to do. Late-summer garden chores are some of the most gratifying. We need to keep paths open and welcoming, and prop up the top-heavy leaners but there’s not much deadheading to do (a topic for a future post) and even the weeding seems under control (though we did just get another little downpour yesterday…) But everything we do in the garden, every tweak and adjustment, edit and deletion really shows and looks like an improvement. Check out these befores and afters…

(The last two pictures are to show the difference in the dawn redwood (Metasequoia glyptostroboides) hedge after Fred and Dan trimmed it yesterday – what a difference.) I think the reward for a morning’s or a day’s labor of love – in the garden or out of it – should be to sit back for a few minutes to watch the goldfinch eat echinacea seeds and the hummingbirds work the stachytarpheta, Salvia guarantica, nicotiana, and agastache and soak it all up before summer really does come to an end.

Have you gone back to school/work or are you still enjoying summer in the garden? Do you do a lot of late-summer editing, assessing, and wildlife watching too?