More finality talk

Hmm, a week after I have my “This is the end, my friends” post, Gardening Gone Wild announced an “End of the Line” photo contest. Coincidental, I am sure!


It was fun to look around the garden for my favorite end-of-the-season vignettes, particularly because the weekend has been gloriously balmy. We planted 17 trees around the neighborhood this morning: part of the Re-Tree WNY effort. It was up to me to choose the trees to be planted, and I had great fun with that. We ended up with redbuds, horse chestnuts, gingkos, serviceberrys, crabapples, and mountain ash. Decades from now, Allentown residents will see them in their glory.

Meanwhile, I am planting the last of the bulbs and enjoying what you see here. The roses have been just like this for the last 2 weeks; I guess they won't ever fully open. This is probably one of the last weekends it will be fun to linger in the garden.

The year of Erlicheer

Well, not really. But I’ve decided to closely document, just for fun, the progress of this particular type of tazetta. I loved them last year; each stem produces a tight bouquet of white blossoms (as you see below). And as I posted last year: they produce one of the most upright and bountiful floral displays I've seen. I’ve bought a lot of them (from Old House Gardens), and I hope to keep most—not give them all away as impulsive gifts.


And this is the year I’ll organize my forced tazettas and hyacinths just a bit better. I’m not mixing hyacinths in the same pots because they never come up at the same time. Mixing tazettas is often equally unsuccessful. In this case, nature encourages a monoculture.



Old House Gardens suggests that the Erlicheer (as well as the Avalanche and Early Pearl, which I also have) should chill in a dark cold room for a couple weeks, so I’ve placed them in the root cellar. They’re in tall glass vases, and I’ve used a combo (as you see) of river stones to hold them.

These bulbs are fun because I’ll see results in December and January, when nothing else is blooming—inside or out.

This is the end, my friends

For the next few months, I can ignore the weather. Which is a relief in many ways. There may be snow, there may be sleet, there may be ice—or it might just be dreary and gray, but I don’t really have to think much about it, other than dress and travel appropriately. I don’t have to focus on how weather effects or does not affect what I’m doing in the garden, because I won’t be doing much out there, not until April or thereabouts.


There are still a few bulbs to plant, and quite a few leaves to rake. For as long as I can remember, the Norway maples on our street have hung onto their leaves well into November, making leaf disposal an annoying task—much of which takes place the following spring. But this year, there was an early frost and the leaves actually did what they’re supposed to do—change color to a rusty gold and fall off the branches. I think this is the first time I’ve seen their fall color; normally they morph into a greenish black. They’re very pretty, and they’re everywhere.

I already have my first few containers of tazettas started; with any luck, some may be in bloom by Thanksgiving. I will also be spending a lot of time tending indoor plants and dealing with 40-plus pots and vases of forced hyacinths. The weather outside will soon be frightful, but I can ignore it—and continue gardening.

Orchid experts make housecalls

At least in Buffalo they do. Whenever I see this friend, who is also an orchid grower and member of the Niagara Frontier Orchid Society, I always whine a bit about my orchids. I guess he'd had enough when he finally said, "Why don't I come by one morning and look at them?"

Sure! So he did, and I videotaped some of it, using my iPhone. That's why the sound and image quality are not the finest. Also, if you're prone to vertigo, the shaky camera might be annoying as well. However, I've used subheads to help make it all intelligible.

John's visit was very helpful. I feel much more secure about my orchids now.

Fall fits and starts

(All is well in the plant room.)

If it’s not warm enough to sit in the garden, I am unlikely to want to work in it. I’m not one of those dedicated gardeners who loves to get out in the brisk chilly air and make a day of it—but I can stand an hour or two. Hence, there is still much to be done, and a bit that has been done.

The bulb project continues. Species tulips dasytemon, oculata, kolpkowskiana, and orphanidea have been added to the tarda, clusiana, batalini, humulis, biflora, bakari, marjoletti, and turkistanica I already have. (You’d think this would create a sea of color, and you would be wrong—so many of these are needed!) For the first time in a while, I planted a bunch of narcissus outside: Eudora, albus plenus odorata, and cantabricus. Just feeling crazy, I guess. Most of the indoor forcing is yet to do, but I have 4 big containers in the garage.


And this year I have a new protection system for the bulbs. For the containers I am using peony supports over the planting, as you see. I think this will deter squirrels if I use red pepper as well. I’ve also treated the outside plantings with cayenne and liquid fence. Phew! But I understand it wears off. It’s a bit of trouble, but worth it when you love spring bulbs.


You’re all reading about what a crappy little fall many of us have been having, but the perennials at least are turning brilliant yellow this year, especially the hostas. And this Solomon’s Seal I just planted is practically fluorescent.

Autumnal angst

Or is it simply angst that autumn seems to have passed us by? We went right from high summer in September to early winter in October this year. Oh well, my weather app tells me that some balmier temps are on the way.

But even with a warm spell to come, undeniably the end of the growing season has arrived, and thus it becomes more difficult to feign enthusiasm about any flowering plants that might be hanging on, even for a Bloom Day post. During spring and summer I anxiously await the development of the various flowers—tulips, roses, lilies, hydrangeas, rudbeckia, and so on. Every day has an exciting discovery, or even a traumatic disappointment.

In mid-October though, it’s winding down. I’m much more interested in planning the spring bulbs than I am in looking at what might still be hanging on at this stage. Which is really how it should be. And of course I’m very involved in my winter forcing projects. And I’m figuring out how to keep all the plants in my plant room alive.


The garden outside, now? Not so much. It’s pretty enough in its fall colors and scattered messiness, I’ll give it that.

A bulb forcing demo