It seems that the onset of autumn here in northern California takes an eternity to arrive, but when it does, I leap for joy at the sights and sounds that herald its long awaited arrival.
The white wisteria is the first thing in the garden to don its autumn coat of many colors. Tobacco, mahogany and amber riotously collide to blot out any traces of green before the leaves are shed and the plant lies dormant for the long winter.
The most arresting shade of brilliant fiery orange has begun to envelope the apple trees. I find it quite extraordinary how one leaf turns even as its neighbor is not quite ready to yield to the season.
The pear tree, on the other hand, takes on a reddish hue. By the end of November all of the leaves will be uniformly colored, and then in the blink of an eye, they are gone, carried away by gusting winds and scattered to the corners of the garden.
It is at this time of the year that I place seed bells among the boughs of our trees to help the birds supplement their autumn diet of berries and fruits. I think they look rather whimsical dangling from the branches attached by garden twine.
Of course, the seed bells are not the only thing attracting the birds to our garden in November. The Pittosporum's fleshy berries are ripening from green to burnt orange aided by the cooler temperatures. Once ripe, they burst open to reveal their sticky innards and provide our feathered friends with sustenance throughout the season as well as a welcomed shot of color to the landscape.
The vegetable garden has been cleared and prepared for winter with only a scattering of lettuce seedlings remaining. Once those are gone, I'll amend the soil with nourishing manure and let nature do its work until I'm ready to sow more seeds at the beginning of the new year.
The annual autumn ritual of adding ever more spring flowering bulbs to the garden recurrently beckons and this year is no exception. I am a slave to the powers of a beautiful narcissus or tulip. More often than not I like to purchase my bulbs from a wonderful independent nursery down the coast in Half Moon Bay, where I feel like the proverbial kid in a candy store as I make my selections and fill my brown paper bags with the promise of a cheery spring garden. This year, I'll be planting late flowering Queen of The Night tulips for a little dark drama, along with pure white Thalia narcissi, and white muscari. I've also placed orders for narcissi Albatross, a rare propeller-like white and orange daffodil from 1891 with Old House Gardens, a fine mail order catalog that specializes in older varieties of bulbs which I enjoy growing whenever I can.
My bulbs have been languishing in the basement for a few weeks so this past Sunday afternoon I found a few hours to play in the garden and tuck them into the cool damp soil. It always feels so rejuvenating to be digging around in the garden when the temperatures are not as punishing on the gardener as they are during the summer months.
As dusk sets in, the vocal honking of migrating Canadian geese is often heard directly overhead. I love to catch a glimpse and hear the commotion as they fly over the house and garden on their way to sunnier climes, and witness firsthand the awe and excitement of hundreds of geese flying in their familiar v-formations.
Just as the geese fly south, gangs of noisy crows and ravens descend to replace the honking with banshee cries of "caw caw". It is only in recent memory that I recall these noisy birds arriving during the autumn months and they remind me of England so much.
What is putting on a show in your autumn garden, and are you lucky enough to live in an area where trees put on a colorful display in November?
Nota bene: I am neither paid nor do I receive recompense in exchange for applauding products or services within my blog. I do so because I enjoy them. If you are a kindred spirit, you too enjoy recommending nice things to fellow good eggs.
The wisteria in its autumn glory
Photo: Chronica Domus
The white wisteria is the first thing in the garden to don its autumn coat of many colors. Tobacco, mahogany and amber riotously collide to blot out any traces of green before the leaves are shed and the plant lies dormant for the long winter.
Photo: Chronica Domus
The most arresting shade of brilliant fiery orange has begun to envelope the apple trees. I find it quite extraordinary how one leaf turns even as its neighbor is not quite ready to yield to the season.
Brilliant orange leaves on the apple tree
Photo: Chronica Domus
The pear tree, on the other hand, takes on a reddish hue. By the end of November all of the leaves will be uniformly colored, and then in the blink of an eye, they are gone, carried away by gusting winds and scattered to the corners of the garden.
Mottled shades of red and green on a pear leaf
Photo: Chronica Domus
A branch of the autumn pear tree
Photo: Chronica Domus
It is at this time of the year that I place seed bells among the boughs of our trees to help the birds supplement their autumn diet of berries and fruits. I think they look rather whimsical dangling from the branches attached by garden twine.
Seed compressed into a bell shape dangle from the pear tree attracting an array of hungry birds
Photo: Chronica Domus
Of course, the seed bells are not the only thing attracting the birds to our garden in November. The Pittosporum's fleshy berries are ripening from green to burnt orange aided by the cooler temperatures. Once ripe, they burst open to reveal their sticky innards and provide our feathered friends with sustenance throughout the season as well as a welcomed shot of color to the landscape.
The attractively colored berries of the Pittosporum
Photo: Chronica Domus
Photo: Chronica Domus
The cherry tree has its own colorway during November. Lime and sulfur yellow predominate on this specimen, making the entire tree appear as if aglow once it has fully donned its autumn show.
Cherry tree leaves turning shades of lime and yellow
Photo: Chronica Domus
The vegetable garden has been cleared and prepared for winter with only a scattering of lettuce seedlings remaining. Once those are gone, I'll amend the soil with nourishing manure and let nature do its work until I'm ready to sow more seeds at the beginning of the new year.
Lettuce seedlings are the only signs of life in the vegetable patch this month
Photo: Chronica Domus
The annual autumn ritual of adding ever more spring flowering bulbs to the garden recurrently beckons and this year is no exception. I am a slave to the powers of a beautiful narcissus or tulip. More often than not I like to purchase my bulbs from a wonderful independent nursery down the coast in Half Moon Bay, where I feel like the proverbial kid in a candy store as I make my selections and fill my brown paper bags with the promise of a cheery spring garden. This year, I'll be planting late flowering Queen of The Night tulips for a little dark drama, along with pure white Thalia narcissi, and white muscari. I've also placed orders for narcissi Albatross, a rare propeller-like white and orange daffodil from 1891 with Old House Gardens, a fine mail order catalog that specializes in older varieties of bulbs which I enjoy growing whenever I can.
An afternoon of bulb planting awaits
Photo: Chronica Domus
My bulbs have been languishing in the basement for a few weeks so this past Sunday afternoon I found a few hours to play in the garden and tuck them into the cool damp soil. It always feels so rejuvenating to be digging around in the garden when the temperatures are not as punishing on the gardener as they are during the summer months.
Sixty Queen of the Night tulips positioned for planting along the border
Photo: Chronica Domus
As dusk sets in, the vocal honking of migrating Canadian geese is often heard directly overhead. I love to catch a glimpse and hear the commotion as they fly over the house and garden on their way to sunnier climes, and witness firsthand the awe and excitement of hundreds of geese flying in their familiar v-formations.
Just as the geese fly south, gangs of noisy crows and ravens descend to replace the honking with banshee cries of "caw caw". It is only in recent memory that I recall these noisy birds arriving during the autumn months and they remind me of England so much.
What is putting on a show in your autumn garden, and are you lucky enough to live in an area where trees put on a colorful display in November?
Nota bene: I am neither paid nor do I receive recompense in exchange for applauding products or services within my blog. I do so because I enjoy them. If you are a kindred spirit, you too enjoy recommending nice things to fellow good eggs.
My dear CD, a visit to your charming salon has many delights the first of which is your beautiful writing and the subject is always interesting and informative. I do hope you take us along step by step in bringing this garden to its full glory. This is hardly my area of expertise but love seeing how it's done.
ReplyDelete60 Queens of the Night and no Papageno?
Dearest GSL,
DeleteHow right you are, no Papageno to be had, but if there were, I'd be planting them alongside Queen of The Night. What color do you imagine them to be so they balance the Queen's dark side?
Of course, if I am fortunate and these bulbs actually bloom, I shall fulfill your desires and do a follow-up blog in the spring.
I just wrote a piece about putting the garden to bed.
ReplyDeletehttp://www.baltimorefishbowl.com/stories/view-halcyon-putting-garden-bed/
Yes, it is that time of the year isn't it. I'm sure you have a lot more to prepare than I do here in our milder climes.
DeleteI always miss Fall in Ohio, which is spectacular, courtesy of the maple trees. One road panoramically overlooking the Chagrin Valley is especially stunning. We always found excuses to drive out that way, often to our favorite apple farm.
ReplyDeleteThose Pittosporum berries are apparently not edible, but they remind me of the crab apples, haws, and rose hips we sought on fall hikes. Your garden beds look fertile and healthy after all your hard work, and I am looking forward to following their progress next spring.
--Jim
Hello Jim,
DeleteAutumn scenes in Ohio sound much more like the English autumns I enjoyed when living there. Although there are certainly signs of autumn here in California, they are not as pronounced. One day, I shall make the pilgrimage out east to enjoy the spectacular "turning of the leaves" I hear so much about. It must be breathtakingly beautiful to see firsthand.
You are correct about the Pittosporum berries. They are deleterious to humans but not to birds, at least the type of Pittosporum I grow, and the name escapes me right now.
Your garden sounds lovely, with its show of autumn. Here, in Southern California, we have a tree called liquid amber that puts on a show for us and fortunately, our next door neighbor has one. There are other signs of autumn and the vibrancy depends on the temperature drops of evening. We've had an especially warm fall up to now so the trees are a little late in turning and dropping their leaves.
ReplyDeleteWe have a golf course nearby that enjoys (or not) a gaggle of Canada geese every late fall/winter.
Do your tulips weather in ground and rebloom the following winter? Ours do not. But the narcissus do return.
xo,
Karen
Hello Karen,
DeleteYes, I know the tree you make reference to. I believe it is a sweet gum tree and yes, it certainly puts on a colorful show during the autumn months. There are many in our area but not directly by our house.
To answer your question about the tulips, I've had mixed results with reblooming. The majority of them do not, however, some white single-late tulips (Francoise) I planted several years ago managed to rebloom for about three years in a row. That may have be because I planted them deeper than recommended so perhaps they stayed cool enough to come back. As you've noticed in your own garden, the narcissi do a wonderful job of returning each year. Some even naturalize and have to be separated and replanted every three or four years.
Oh your garden is beautiful! I love looking at all these photos, as we are of course the opposite - Spring is drawing to a close, and the garden is maturing into its Summer colour and form now. My tulips have now all died back in their pot, and I'm about to dig them out to store until next Winter (as mine have to have a spell in the crisper drawer of my fridge as it's not otherwise cold enough to get them to bloom).
ReplyDeleteThank you Heidi! Yes, the wonders of the blogosphere can bring you images of autumn in the northern hemisphere as you enjoy spring in the southern regions of the planet. What a small world we live in nowadays. I look forward to viewing your spring garden when we are in the midst of rain puddles and lower temperatures.
DeleteGosh, tulips are a labor of love if you have to dig them up annually and chill them. I've only done that once upon receiving an order from a company that advised me to place them in the refrigerator for ten weeks! I've been buying my bulbs locally ever since that little episode as they come pre-chilled, thank goodness.