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Shadows of Doom in the Sunny Border

© Barbara M. Martin

It's fall, no doubt about it Last week I wrote about the beginning of fall in my shady garden and the surrounding woods, this week we move on to the warmer sunny garden on the south slope, where both the pink and white Boltonia have gone by and the goldenrod is nearly finished. The milkweed pods are just opening, and the poke berries have barely begun to color up, but the masses of purple ironweed and drifts of wild white and soft pale purple asters are lovely.

Until now I didn't realize just how many garden-worthy prairie plants grow happily in my non-prairie garden!

And still we have a shadow of that Purple Spring Garden in some lovely last gasps of purple and pink: quantities of mixed Morning Glories, tall and now slightly scraggly cleomes, the unnamed and indefatigable soft purply clematis, bright clutches of Strawflowers (Helichrysum).

Sedum after sedum in full bloom, prickly waves of Verbena bonariensis and matted swathes of Scarlet O'Hara morning glories (mine are pinker!). Here and there pop the dusty pink rays of the odd purple cone flower (Echinacea), the last of the various Butterfly Bush blooms and the occasional sprigs of perennial pink sweet pea; the near epic crepe myrtlettes (yes here's proof they exist!) are still blooming beneath their protective wrapping of pink morning glory.

The morning glories stay open later in the day now and I like them best in this softer fall light. That's lucky because we have lots of them self sown every where -- even covering the arches in the vegetable garden. The Bachelor's Buttons are still blooming in the veggie patch, too.

I'm considering adding at least one Buddleia or Butterfly Bush Extraordinaire to the old veggie patch -- maybe I'll turn it into a butterfly garden! Seriously, how many tomatoes can three people eat?

Down by the road, the hops vine (now sporting swish golden strobiles), mingles with wild asters and flea bane (Erigeron) in a tangle with some hardy ageratum (Eupatorium coelestinum) and some assorted store bought tall fancy asters. The asters would probably be shorter if I'd remember to cut them off once or twice during the summer but I always forget.

Through it all pokes a strident, bold, discordant and eye catching red: a lone stalk of "Lord Baltimore" hibiscus, still blooming heartily and hardily if a bit bedraggled on the edge of the ditch. It reminds me of waving as the ship goes down.