So, here is a thing about how November is supposed to work. It’s supposed to be rainy and soggy, and the grass will start growing, but things will pretty much remain dormant, because it’s also a bit chilly, and December will be even chillier, and any sensible plant should be wrapping up tight in preparation for the dark times.
However, the garden apparently did not get the memo, because it is up to all manner of mischief.
The boronia in bloom, I expect; it is, after all, the right season for it, and part of the reason why I planted it, so that I’d have some colour and scent in the dark period of the year. I’m a bit irked that despite all the delicious foliage coming up around the property, the deer seem bent on shredding the boronia and scattering it on the ground, not even bothering to eat it, but such is life.
I can even understand why the grevillea is coming into bud. Again, it’s to be expected, given the season.
Even the parrot’s beak gets a pass. I’m actually impressed, because I thought it might have reached the end of its life, but it’s coming back well, and I think stands a good chance of plugging along for a good bit longer.
But what the hell, pineapple sage?
Seriously?!
As for you, sage, I’ve had it up to here with you. You’re all tralalala, budding out and growing, and then you’re going to act shocked, simply shocked, when it freezes in December, and then you will die back and look like shit. You’re on notice, dude: if you can’t make it through winter this year without turning into a pile of dead sticks, I’m ripping you out before spring and replacing you with something hardier.
And you, bucko, what do you think you’re doing?! Is it bulb season? I think it is not, yet, here you are, bulbing. Stop that. Immediately.
Alas, plants cannot be reasoned with. If things keep progressing the way they are, right down to buds on my currants and the buckeye tree, there’s going to be garden carnage in December and January. And these here plants can’t say I didn’t warn them in the sternest of tones. I said ‘look here, plants, it’s too early for this! You’re not ready! You need to save your precious flowers until you meet a very special season!’
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to battle the elements to mow the lawn before the grass gets tall enough to vote.
