Summer Winds Down

The certainty of shorter days and cooler nights is upon us, though our daytime temps remain warm. An uptick in squirrel activity tells me that autumn is coming. California gray squirrels live in trees, and although they don’t hibernate, they build up winter stores for the cooler months.

I harvested several sunflower seed heads and left them on our deck, but getting photos proved elusive. I finally captured a couple of shots last week, one of a squirrel on the sunflower stalk and later in a tree across the street with a mouthful.

This weekend, I spotted another squirrel at the base of the curb garden and managed a few shots. By Sunday night, most of the sunflower stalks had been bent in half, stripped of their seeds, and left for this gardener to clean up.

California gray squirrel eating sunflower seeds

I envy the squirrel’s agility and energy as they hurl themselves from tree branch to roof, then to the back of a narrow bench or railing. This year, I’m counting on them to plant next summer’s sunflower crop. Goodness knows they’ve had their fill.

In other garden news, a few late-season gladiolas popped up through the lavender along the deck. One of my alstroemeria protested its move from pot to pot, eventually throwing in the towel. I took advantage of the real estate and transplanted three or four succulents needing space to expand their roots.

The rock wall is awash with white anemones that have grown quite tall this year, thanks to a good soaking rain this past winter.

They look pretty in glass jars as well.

Anemones, salvia, and nepeta in glass jars.

The first bulb catalogs arrived in the post last week, full of spring promise. Planning a more cohesive planting this fall will be fun; it’s just weeks away. I might try one or two new varieties, but after 27 years of digging in my garden, I’m a realist. It’s too hot for cool-season bulbs, and tulips are like chocolate for squirrels. It’s best to skip the disappointment and plant what works.

Nothing compares to the anticipation of spring.

Stress and a Pair of Garden Shears

curb garden

Curb garden in need of some TLC

It’s been a stressful week. When your heart is open, it acts a bit like a sponge. The sadness of others laps at my soul.

The news isn’t mine to share, and sharing it won’t change it anyway. Instead, I donned my garden gloves, picked up a pair of garden shears and got busy. In my world, pruning is therapeutic.

Cutting away at dead growth or removing crossed or brittle branches helps shape the plant and ready it for fall. I worked my way through the curb garden, the triangle garden, the side garden and one of the areas in front of our sickly tree.

As I reached into the soil to plant additional bulbs, I unearthed several narcissus from last year. I tucked them back in for the winter, and made new holes a few spaces over. I like imagining the bulbs resting under ground, storing energy till they make their early spring debut.

chocolate mint

Chocolate mint taking a shortcut

Chocolate mint has been running amok, sending shoots out of the bottom of the planter box. I cut back what I could, then stretched the shoots over the top of the box and pruned them clear of the gravel. That incredible scent tickled my senses as I ran my hands through the leaves.

Two unidentified plants are now a meter tall. I don’t know what they are but they’ve made it this far so they get to stay. Novelty is good, even it they do look a bit out-of-place.

mystery plants

Two mystery plants, one meter tall

I pruned away the diseased branches of our Magnolia. It’s possible I went too far this time, but after hours spent trying to defeat Magnolia scale, drastic measures were due.I removed branches from the shrubs below the tree, taming them back to the walkway’s edge. The last of the summer annuals were next. Piles grew in corners here and there. I filled the wheelbarrow, made another pile on a small tarp and brought order to the garden. My back ached as it grew harder and harder to stand up. I worked some more.

garden surprise

A lovely garden surprise

By day’s end, I’d logged four hours in the garden. I pruned, pulled, chopped, raked, and swept.  I planted spring bulbs and dressed the side yard with a thick layer of mulch. Exhausted, I finally called it a day. I packed up my tools, washed away the day’s dirt and took my boys out for a quiet dinner.

Some days you tend a garden; some days the garden tends you.