Last month, I said that I would transplant the wisteria (surprisingly less difficult than I thought it would be, probably thanks to planting it in a cage, but we shall see if it survives the move), separate bulbs (made distressingly easier by the fact that the gophers have clearly moved some around, so I guess they separated them for me?), transplant the perennial sweet peas (surprisingly more difficult than I thought it would be, thanks to a tap root as long as I am tall), and stay on top of watering things. To my shock and surprise, I managed to accomplish all those things. Well, the weather accomplished that last one, but the rest were all me, which is pretty great considering that I was gone for a large chunk of the month and the impending electoral apocalypse has me working 14 hours a day. This gives me hope, and muddy trousers, for the future.
November is a winding down kind of month, but over the course of October I did continue to get both beets and strawberry spinach, which was great. My strawberries also do not seem to understand that the summer is over and they need to stop now. They’re still putting out blooms and occasionally forming sad little fruits that promptly rot in the rain.
Unlike this fine specimen of planthood, which actually lives next door, but was too weird not to photograph. This bloom has been going strong for a couple of weeks now and I am on the fence about whether it is Australian or an enemy invasion. Or both, to be honest with you.
Meanwhile, my pineapple sage, which tends to bust into flower around this time of year, is at it again. I much prefer it to the related salvia because it doesn’t die back and look horrific at the first sign of frost. Instead, it remains nice and cheerful and yes, creepily pineapple scented and has clearly missed the memo on the benefits of withering away and dying at the slightest provocation. (I keep trying to tear the salvia out and it keeps coming back, so evidently it’s more rugged than perhaps I am giving it credit for.)
I’m also pleased to see that the handful of marigolds I planted have scattered their seeds everywhere and now they are flourishing, though to my shock, the deer, or possibly bunnies, but probably deer, are actually eating the ones that are coming up in the yard. This is a very upsetting turn of events, as colorful weeds that look nice are hard to find and I was really hoping to establish a veritable cornucopia of them in an array of jaunty colours. Boo. Oh well, at least the marigolds behind bars are doing all right, I suppose.
These remain stubbornly deer resistant, praise be. Would that I could bottle it and dispense this largesse to the rest of the garden, eh?