One gardener's observations, discoveries and random thoughts whilst simultaneously worshipping and dallying in a Cape Cod garden. "A garden," said Ralph Waldo Emerson, "is like those pernicious machineries which catch a man's coatskirt or his hand, and draw in his arm, his leg and his whole body to irresistable destruction."

Election Day Morning

Election day.
Morning.
The two together seem an appropriate combination of circumstances, each bringing fresh chances to improve on the past. So I was already starting the day with a bit of Hope. Before heading out to cast my vote, I had things to do in the garden–it seemed only appropriate to plant the rest of the bulbs.

Even though recent frosty nights have called an end to the cosmos’ fun, this one still won’t stop being beautiful somehow.

The milkweed seedpods have all burst open, but as of this morning, the seeds just seemed to hang there, poised and waiting for the first good gust of wind to set them asail…to spread more of themselves around.

I certainly don’t mind, since they’re one of those butterfly support species that are critical to monarchs and other. I let the plants seed in where they will, and then (with gloves on–the milk’s a bit irritating to bare skin) pull out the ones that don’t work in my scheme. The far, southern end of the garden’s field is full of them, so I don’t feel bad weeding a few of them out of my beds.


Even as signs of the season’s end abound, there are some things which just won’t let it end yet…like this little pink clover I found. Some of its leaves are turning black, but there were several of these little blossoms spreading their Pretty around.


Tucked in low where their long stalks had flopped, I found a few wild asters still sporting their fancy little flowers. Love the way they’re blushed with just a dash of the same color of the clover. Nature, it seems, always knows what plants go well together.
At first the flopping seems like a flaw in the plant’s design, you know? We’ve all been so conditioned by nurseries to buy their engineered hybrids that are shorter, sturdier. But when you think about it, the floppiness is a part of the aster’s sexuality: how else would one plant be able to spread its seed so far and wide?

Here’s that tiny slip of a burning bush I planted out in a sunnier bed last fall. It grew well enough this year, though it’s still a bit rough looking. It seems to have taken well to its new location and I think it’ll come along in time. As you can see, it’s fall foliage offers another great color combination with the dark green leaves and gun-metal blue seedheads of the Oregano That Ate Eastham which surrounds it.

I can tell that stuff will need constant attention, to keep from filling in every little open space I create…so as I planted bulbs, I also weeded out (sort of roughly, since I didn’t have all day. I’m sure I’ll have to clean up the job come springtime. SIGH. And maybe next year I’ll remember to deadhead the flowers before they can go wild on me.) a big chunk of the oregano.

Today’s bulb planting finished up the last of the daffodils I’d been planting last week…as well as some yellow crocuses and grape hyacinths. They’re all things you just don’t seem to be able to have too many of, so I’m glad to add a few more each fall. I also planted a bag of purple drumstick alliums in and around the beebalms and daisies and yarrows. I know they’ll look great next season, their long-lived flowerheads bouncing in the breeze on tall, bendy stalks.

blah blah blah de-blah blah…(hmmm…it’s my first time working with this new blog posting system here…it’s a little frustrating, I think I’ll like it once I’ve gotten used to it…but I’m not having one of those weeks where I’m feeling especially patient with uploading and futzing about with computers…and the computers all seem to sense this and appear to be slowing down processes just to piss me off. One of them may die.)
There’s but this last picture to post here, so I should be all right. Here’s the tassels of my fancy curling grass, showing itself off against what was becoming a beautiful blue sky.

Yes, it’s election day morning in America. There’s always the chance it will turn into a bright new day.

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