The asters have won my heart for the sheer exuberant volume of blossoms they produce, for being hearty and beautiful in a kind of workaday way, for blooming so late in the season when the garden is a mess and I’ve lost my gumption for it until next spring. We might all pursue our vocations with such earnest cheer.
I’m always happy to find flowers still in bloom in early autumn – besides the ubiquitous mums, of which, I a not a huge fan. The meadow rue can easily be taller than me, despite its delicate appearance. I like things that manage to be mighty and tender all at once.
There are a few plants that flourish in our north country winters that would appear to have NO BUSINESS living here. The yucca is one.
Somehow, growing this plant in my garden makes me feel like there’s something a little exotic going on right in my own front yard. I’m happy to host this denizen of the desert and other southern climes and truly impressed with its survival skills.
The Virgin’s Bower clematis is an aggressive vine. Covered with small white, star-shaped flowers in summer, by early fall the whole vine is a hairy mess of seeds. I can’t help thinking of truffula tufts (or a raging case of bed head).
They have a certain disheveled charm. Then, after a while, they just look messy. It’s a fine line.
Our garden has never had much fall interest so this year I’m excited about the new asters in the native plant garden. So excited, in fact, that I couldn’t wait for them to open entirely before photographing them several days in a row. There is something magical about emergence, being poised on the brink of discovery but with so much left unknown.