by Debbie Naples.
Among things in this burning season:
Perennials at this crispy time, if not completely dead can be heard shouting their last hurrah on the way to the grave. Purple and white asters, aster lateriflorus ‘Lady in Black’ being my favorite, and mums who, by now, are propped up with green garden stakes, I hope. Yes the leaves are stunning, and pumpkins are lying all over the ground, some ripe, some decaying into balls of nauseating slime. Yes I know, it’s all so wistful and Old World, plaid and corduroy are acceptable again, apple cider, hay, scarecrows who I might add are no longer needed, abound.
And don’t bother with the weeds now, it’s too late, they have already gone to seed, they have scattered their children throughout your property, you will have to wait until spring to see who comes up where.
Decisions are always being made in the garden, some of the most important ones in autumn, it is a veritable democratic mass of constant processing, enfoldments, wars, funerals and death. Mostly death. Do not be fooled: gardens are not quiet places of little action. They are hotbeds of chemical and magical labor that operate at a furious pace.
For example: The Fall herb harvest: Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and no time to pick it… Human beings at some point in time developed a taste palate and then at some other undisclosed time, lost it, especially in parts of the United States of America or most of the United States, just to be fair. What happened? Too much sugar on everything, too much salt in everything, doesn’t come in a can, so you can’t understand it? Many clients of gardeners and sometimes gardeners themselves, desire herb gardens but few pick them. Many are grown but few are picked.
The harvesting of neglected herbs, is a most satisfying activity, especially if one is paid to do it. Gardeners and hired help have reaped the benefits of the busy and oblivious among us for centuries. Basil, dill, thyme, rosemary, fennel, parsley lots of parsley cilantro, tarragon who uses that anyway, sage and god knows what else, all go in my bag home.
Still autumn is really all about cutting-down or mowing down depending. Dead and dying plants poking up and falling over left and right, bruised and decaying plant material everywhere, the medieval scent of mold, the joy of detritus, and one wants to cleanup. Autumn is also about winter. ‘Winter-interest’ that is, or what I call the ‘winter-interest-decision-making process’. “Should I cut down the Miscanthus sinesis, ornamental grass,” you will ponder, “or will it look like a procession of crew cuts on the front lawn?” Better leave them up, hoping the snow won’t collect in the middle and make a procession of hay-pile-blobs across the front lawn instead. “Hmm,” you will muse, “why did I not prune the cornus alba, Redtwig dogwood, enough?” “Not enough red twigs, some have gone brown, agh.” What about the Keria, Kerria japonica… on the border of the yard, will its stunning kelly green wands be lost in the backdrop of the dense dark forest of winter, will it at least obscure the neighbor’s house a little? “Did I just cut back an oakleaf hydrangea, Hydrangea quercifolia? “ That’s both bad and wrong….The list of mishaps, regrets, reflections and scenes of remorse is endless. There is a reason we interchangeably refer to autumn as fall.
And after all the garden bed clean up, the dark tales of cutting back, your gaze wanders to the lawn. The lawn is not the garden. Time to get a rake.
The Rake: The rake is both a verb and a noun, an efficient word. Regrettably, raking rather than the potential compelling physical experience (the verb part), it could be, is often, a task classified as a “chore,” and the rake (the noun part) lies untouched in the shed. Thousands of dollars and hours spent at the gym when people (mostly women) could merely step outside and enjoy the waist slimming activity of raking their acre. *
*Beware The Blower
It will suck you in and seduce you with its time saving qualities, it will use gas and stink it will burn out your eardrums and eventually your dreams…take heed.