Fall is upon us, bringing me one step closer to my favourite season! Though we’ve had thrillingly dire predictions of rain, rain, rain this winter, we’re in that tiny window of bizarrely summery weather, blood moon and all, that strikes every autumn. It’s as though the weather didn’t bother to check the calendar or consult with anyone, and I for one do not appreciate it. If I wanted sun and insufferable heat, I’d move to Arizona, thank you very much.
The garden seems particularly confused this year. This early summer bloomer is certainly welcome to come back for a second round if it wants, but this really isn’t the time for heather. (Maybe it was joining the pink out for Planned Parenthood?)
This guy, on the other hand, isn’t supposed to start putting out until December, so I don’t know what it was thinking.
These delicate little blossoms are nearly indestructible, which endears them to me immensely because anything in my garden needs to be able to withstand both considerable neglect and extreme dryness. I’m glad to see them still thriving here after five years! They were also one of the few things I managed to get in proper focus, so make of that what you will.
Speaking of still thriving, these salvia. Can we talk about them. Because, look, here is the thing: Every winter, they die off in the first frost and they look withered and black and awful until I muster the will to trim them. So I’ve taken to wrenching them out in the spring in the hopes of eradicating them, and every summer, back they come. I prefer my landscaping to take on a more…permanent…feel, which is why I planted the yerba buena. As you can see in this picture, the yerba buena has pretty much given up on life despite being an indigenous species and thus theoretically capable of handling a little abuse.
Finally, these seem to be doing inexplicably well despite my repeated hamfisted attempts at cold-blooded plant murder (i.e. I forget to water them for a month and they wither away to dry sticks).
As the drought deepens, my tendency to forget to water has become an asset rather than a liability, but I can’t help but feel a tad guilty for all these perfectly lovely plants that never did anything wrong in their lives other than having the misfortune to come home with me…