The Blue Green Dragon has Her Autumn Fire Cooled by Old Man Winter
Mother Nature had early tricks in mind for Vermont this Halloween, though fortunately, she and her pal, Old Man Winter, kept things light. Autumn snowstorms can be devastating to deciduous trees and shrubs here in New England; especially when the more fragile species are still in full canopy. Two years ago, to the day (October 26-27, 2016), fall foliage held late, and my garden did not escape Winter’s early wrath so easily. There was heavy, wet snowfall and a great deal of damage. Thankfully, this year’s snowliage was light and for the most part, less Nightmare Before Christmas and more pre-Halloween treat . . .
And the Lovely Scarlet Leaves of this Cornus kousa Catch a Premature Chill
Snow-Dusted Loungers, Shiver out on the Balcony
Taking in the Chilly-Looking, North-Western View
Frozen Leaf-Dance in the Water Bowl. Perhaps it’s Time to Gather in the Pots
And Tuck the Secret Garden in for a Long Winter’s Nap
Fire and Ice: Cornus kousa in Snow.
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Article and Images copyright Michaela at The Gardener’s Eden, all rights reserved. All content on this site, (with noted exceptions), is the property of The Gardener’s Eden and may not be used, reproduced or reposted elsewhere without written consent.
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An October Snow Squall Temporarily Coats the Scarlet Leaves of This Brilliant Viburnum with Fresh Frosting (V. plicatum var. tomentosum ‘Shasta’)
A Different Kind of October in the Secret Garden
A First For Me; Damask Roses in the Snow (‘Rosa De Rescht’)
Candy-Coated Autumn Colors …
And Jewel-Like Leaves, Flash Frozen in Time
Snow Kissed Hydrangea: Could There Be a Prettier, More Poetic, Late-Autumn Scene? (H. paniculata ‘Limelight’)
Snow Mixed with Fruity Colors: A Most Delightful, Frosted Confection
Blood Red Japanese Maple Leaves (Acer palmatum ‘Bloodgood’) Remind Me of That Bombshell-Classic Lipstick: Cherries in the Snow
The Beauty of Two Seasons, Blurred into One
Snow Softly Covers Cinderella’s Pumpkin as She Readies for the Icicle Ball …
And the Dahlias Bow as They Take Their Last Dance
Photographs and Text ⓒ Michaela Medina/The Gardener’s Eden. All photographs, articles and content on this site (with noted exceptions) are the original, copyrighted property of The Gardener’s Eden and may not be reposted, reproduced or used in any way without prior written consent. Contact information is in the left side bar. Thank you!
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October 27th, 2011 § Comments Off on Autumn’s Kaleidoscopic Color Wheel: Glorious Patterns & Back-Lit Beauty … § permalink
Purple Beautyberry, Smokebush and Maiden Grass Make a Brilliant Grouping (Callicarpa dichotoma, Cotinus coggygria and Miscanthus)
Though it Often Spreads Aggressively, North American Native, Hay Scented Fern (Densntaedtia punctilobula) is a Gorgeous and Durable Ground Cover for Tough, Shady Spaces. Taking My Cue from Mother Nature, I Like to Position this Autumnal Favorite Where it will Catch the Long, Low Light
For Intense, Late-Autumn Foliage Color, One of My Favorite Woody Plants is North American native Fothergilla (Here: Fothergilla major ‘Mt Airy’). The “Witches” —As I Often Refer to Members of the Hamamelidaceae family— in My Garden Include Fothergilla, Hamamelis, Parrotia, and a Few, Lesser-Known Apprentices. Due to Her Chameleon-Like Costume Drama, Fothergilla Plays Well with Physocarpus, Cotinus, Ornamental Grass, Conifers, and Most Other Autumn Beauties. Read More About these Spellbinders in my Past Post, “Must Be the Season of the Witch”.
Late October. Cold winds are kicking up now, lifting leaves high into topaz skies where they twirl about as if riding on a Ferris Wheel. And on rainy days —when the air is damp and still— moody fog swirls about the high walls and along the pathways, softening the hard edges of stone and the skeletal remains of flowers. The second half of autumn can be a dramatic time for late season garden color; with Witch Hazel, Smokebush, Dogwood and Japanese Maple foliage coloring up in fine, fiery hues. The sensual ornamental grasses and colorful Viburnum — so many shrubs, loaded with plump, brilliant fruit— continue to perform beautifully, while the Beautyberry, Cotoneaster and Winterberry are just beginning to put on their seasonal show. Here’s a quick tour of what’s going on in my garden, with notes on some favorite ways to use valuable, late-season plants; making the most of their theatrical talents …
Japanese Maple Leaves (Acer palmatum ‘Bloodgood’) Offer Stunning Autumn Color and Sculptural Form Throughout the Seasons. Many Japanese Maple Trees are Smaller in Stature (A Number Reach 15′ or Less at Maturity), and Most Prefer a bit of Shade, Making them a Perfect Choice for Shadowy Urban Courtyards and Gardens with Limited Space
Reliable as the Change of Season Itself, The Blue-Green Dragon (Acer palmatum x dissectum ‘Seiryu’) Always Hits It Out of the Park. This Small Tree (approximately 14′ high at maturity) is a Rare, Upright, Cut-Leaf Form of Japanese Maple. Beautiful When Backlit and Combined with Autumn Golds, the Color of This Specimen Shifts from the Color of Ocean Waves to Fire to Smoldering Embers
Mossy Stone Walls Offer a Subtly Beautiful Contrast for These Fiery Leaves (Acer palmatum x dissectum ‘Seiryu’)
Some Trees are Natural Show-Offs in Autumn Sunlight, and for Spectacular, Stained-Glass-Like Fall Foliage, it’s Hard to Compete with Japanese Maples (Dancing in the Sunlight Here: Acer palmatum ‘Bloodgood’). For Best Effect, Position Japanese Maples and Similar Trees in Places Where the Foliage will Filter the Rays of Light in Morning and Late Afternoon
Ever-Beautiful, North American native Switch Grass (Panicum virgatum) is Particularly Stunning When Positioned to Capture Light. When I Work Delicate Grasses Like This One into a Garden Desing, I Like to Place Them Where They Can be Seen, Touched and Enjoyed Throughout the Autumn and Early Winter. This Mature Specimen. Located at the Edge of a Pathway Junction in My Garden, Captures Light at Sunrise and Again at Sunset (The Textural, Dried Flower at the Bottom of the Photo is Solidago)
Hydrangea paniculata ‘Limelight’ Changes Hue from Pale Ivory with a Hint of Lime to Rose-Kissed Ivory to Rust. To Make the Most of Her Color Changes, I’ve Positioned Her Beside the Dark Foliage of Fagus sylvatica ‘Riversii’, and Surrounded Her Feet with Colorful Ground Covers (Hakonechloa macra ‘Beni Kaze’ and Pulmonaria ‘Raspberry Splash’). I Love the Relaxed Mood Created When Blossoms Spill Upon an Autumn Walkway
Somehow Escaping Jack’s Icy Fingers, these Morning Glories (Ipomoea tricolor ‘Heavenly Blue’ ) Look Just Stunning Against a Backdrop of Scarlet Sumac (North American native Rhus typhina)
Surrounded by the Confetti Hued Leaves of the Burkwood Viburnum (V. x burkwoodii ‘Anne Russell), Doctor Woo Looks Like Part of a Seasonal Display as She Surveys Her Vole Hunting Domain (Also in this frame: Frost-Kissed, Yellow Hosta Leaves, Rudbeckia & Adenophora Seed Pods and North American native Hydrangea quercifolia in Back of the Border)
The Border Pictured Above Contains Two North American Native Favorites,:Oakleaf Hydrangea and Arkansas Blue Star (Hydrangea quercifolia with Amsonia hubrichtii); Work Together to Create Drama with Their Contrasting, Autumn Foliage Colors and Textures
Hinting at Large-Scale, Design Possibilities, the Scarlet and Chartreuse Patterns on This Japanese Maple Leaf (A. palmatum x dissectum ‘Seiryu’) Command Attention in the Shadows, Especially on a Drizzly Day!
Photographs and Text ⓒ Michaela Medina/The Gardener’s Eden. All photographs, articles and content on this site (with noted exceptions) are the original, copyrighted property of The Gardener’s Eden and may not be reposted, reproduced or used in any way without prior written consent. Contact information is in the left side bar. Thank you!
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Flowering Dogwood (Cornus florida) Photograph ⓒ Tim Geiss
In my work as a garden designer, I am constantly singing the praises of native plants to my clients; encouraging them to soften the edges of their landscape by blurring the boundary between the wild and tame. As an unofficial PR agent for our beautiful native trees and shrubs, I have to say that Cornus florida (our North American native, Flowering Dogwood), is one of the super-stars in my book. All I need do is show photos of this graceful beauty in blossom, and she’s in…
Horizontal Branching Pattern Gives this Native Tree a Graceful Presence in the Forest Understory or Garden Edge. ⓒ Tim Geiss
Beautifully Formed, Delicate White Bracts. ⓒ Tim Geiss
Part of Cornus florida’s timeless appeal can be attributed to her poetic, horizontal branching pattern. When positioned in her preferred location —a semi-shaded spot with evenly moist, woodsy, acidic, well drained soil— Flowering Dogwood’s natural structure and springtime bloom is truly stunning. And in addition to her fine April/May show —which also provides sustenance to pollinators of all kinds— Flowing Dogwood shines again in autumn, when she produces colorful red fruits (attractive to many birds) and scarlet foliage. Once mature, the graceful, tiered branches of Flowering Dogwood catch snow and ice in winter, adding beauty to the barren landscape.
Native to the understory of moist, deciduous, North American forests from southern New England all the way down to Florida, and west to Ontario, Canada and the Texas/Mexico border (USDA zones 4/5-9), Cornus florida is a perfect landscape-sized tree; reaching an average height of 25-35′, with a 20′ spread. This isn’t the right species for hot, dry places in full-sun or windy, barren sites. When positioned in such a location Cornus florida will struggle and suffer; never achieving her full glory. When under stress, Flowering Dogwood is more susceptible to diseases; including borers, cankers, powdery mildew, anthracnose. In more exposed spots —or marginally hardy zones– I prefer to plant C. florida x C. kousa hybrids; including cultivars ‘Constellation’ and ‘Ruth Ellen’. The more durable —and equally lovely, though non-native— Cornus kousa(Kousa Dogwood is native to Asia and hardy in USDA zones 4b-8) is an excellent choice for four-season landscape interest as well. Our other native, flowering dogwood, Cornus alternifolia, is also quite hardy (USDA zones 3-7), but with a distinctly different look.
Given the proper site —as pictured here at the shady edge of a clearing— Cornus florida is a stunning landscape tree. Photo ⓒ Tim Geiss
Original Zone and Cultural Detail Resource: Dirr’s Manual of Woody Landscape Plants
Article ⓒ Michaela at The Gardener’s Eden. All photographs, articles and content on this site, (with noted exceptions), are the original, copyrighted property of The Gardener’s Eden and may not be used or reproduced or reposted without prior written consent. Contact information is in the left side bar. Thank you!
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The New Sugar Shack at Deer Ridge Farm in Guilford, Vermont
Spring, oh spring, where are you? You certainly are a bit coquettish this year; teasing us with early catkins on willow, then snapping us with a sharp, cold sting. Yes, Spring has been withholding many early-season pleasures here in New England, but she always shows us just a bit of sweetness at this time of year in the form of maple syrup. Cold nights and warm days are part of the swing-season magic responsible for sap production here in the Northeast. And this year —with the chilly weather lingering a bit longer than usual— the maple sugaring season has been starting, stopping and sputtering along. Some days it’s too cold for sluggish sap to run —buckets sit frozen on trees— but on warmer days, the percussive sound of drips echoing along the road makes my morning walk something of a maple dance. And I think it’s always fun to end an early spring walk with a hot stack of fresh blueberry pancakes or lemony French toast, smothered in sweet maple syrup. Yum…
Though less efficient than modern methods of sap collecting, the classic tin sap-buckets are still my aesthetic favorite
The Scenic, Seasonal View Along the Road in My Neighborhood
This sugar maple has three buckets. What’s the largest number you’ve ever seen on a tree?
Though I have participated in the maple syrup-making process many times, I don’t boil sap here at my place in Vermont. However, locally made maple syrup is one of my favorite sweet treats, and since many of my friends and neighbors produce and sell maple products every year, I have access to some of the best syrup in the world. In fact, driving up and down the mucky roads in Vermont and elsewhere in the Northeast this month, it’s impossible to go far without seeing the familiar, early-spring sights of tin buckets hanging from maple trees (Acer saccharum) and steaming sugar shacks. Here are a few photos of the maple-syrup-making process, which I shot at local Deer Ridge Farm over the past couple of weeks (many thanks to Jerry Smith for allowing me in to the sugar shack during this busy season). Learn more about how maple syrup and other products are made from maple tree sap at the official Vemont Maple Syrup website, and for more links and resources on sugaring season in Vermont, be sure to check out this excellent post at the lovely Traveling Near and Far blog.
The heat necessary to boil maple sap down, creating sweet syrup, is usually generated by a wood burning stove or furnace
Sweet-scented steam fills the air inside the Deer Ridge Farm sugar shack
It takes an average of 40 gallons of sap to make just one gallon of maple syrup*. Just imagine how much time & work goes into that sweet topping, next time you take a bite of your Sunday pancake, waffle, pop-over, French toast or a sip of your Sugar Moon cocktail!
Maple Syrup is My Favorite Breakfast Topping, and I Particularly Love it on Lemony French Toast (click here for recipe)
My Sugar Moon Cocktail (click here for recipe) is Made with Locally Produced Maple Syrup
Blueberry Breakfast Popover (click here for recipe) is Absolutely Delicious with Fresh Maple Syrup
Article and photographs are copyright Michaela at The Gardener’s Eden, all rights reserved. All content on this site, (with noted exceptions), is the property of The Gardener’s Eden and may not be used, reproduced or reposted elsewhere without written consent.
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Watching the moon rise through bare tree limbs last night, I couldn’t help but notice changes taking place in the forest all around me. By night, swollen maple buds stand out in soft silhouette against the sky’s moonlit glow. And by day, hillsides filled with reddish twigs color the landscape in a hazy new wash of warm color.
Always a skywatcher, I am particularly keyed in to the “super moon” at perigee this month. March’s full moon is known by various Native American and Old English names, but because I live in Vermont —and March is sugaring season— I prefer to call this the Sap Moon. Also commonly known as the Worm Moon, Crow Moon or Lenten Moon, our near-by celestial neighbor will appear full tomorrow, March 19th at 2:10 pm ET (6:10 pm UTC). Because the moon is at perigee, it will appear 14% larger and 30% brighter than it usually does. The timing of a perigee moon and a full moon is unusual; taking place once every couple of decades. For more information on this amazing lunar event, check out this article on the NASA Science site and this interesting article on Space.com.
Article and photographs are copyright Michaela at The Gardener’s Eden, all rights reserved. All content on this site, (with noted exceptions), is the property of The Gardener’s Eden and may not be used, reproduced or reposted elsewhere without written consent.
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My young Royal Frost birch (Betula populifolia x Whitespire ‘Royal Frost’) tree’s golden-orange foliage in November
Several years ago, when my father had heart surgery at the VA hospital in Boston, I was away from home quite a bit during the last three months of the year. Preoccupied with my dad’s health and juggling various responsibilities during his recovery, I neglected end-of-season chores in my garden. Later on, as the first month of winter passed and my father’s condition improved, I found myself staring at a box of unplanted bulbs and a check list of unfinished tasks.
Soon, spring arrived. Waves of forced bulbs —potted and chilled in late December— began to emerge from the depths of my refrigerator. Although I regretted not getting my little treasures into the ground, I was grateful for the bright color of early tulips and tiny, fragrant narcissus when the snow began to recede; exposing muddy patches of half-frozen earth. Later, as I began rummaging around my cellar in search of gardening tools, I made a grim discovery: an entire box of wire cages that never made it around the trunks of my young trees. My heart sank. I looked out into the Secret Garden —at my still-buried Japanese maple— and I knew that I was in trouble. Immediately I raced out the front door and down the steps to my beloved Blue Green Dragon (aka ‘Seiryu’) at the Secret Garden Door. I began furiously digging at the foot of ice and snow still mounded ’round the tree trunk. My cold, raw fingers felt of the smooth bark for tell-tale signs of mouse-damage; scratches, gouges or ridges. Eventually, after clearing the entire base of the tree, I breathed an enormous sigh of relief. No rodent damage here. But then, I turned my attention to the Japanese maple inside the Secret Garden -my beautiful ‘Butterfly’.
The gorgeous spring colors of Acer palmatum ‘Butterfly'(from Almost Eden Plants)
I went inside to grab a pair of gloves and shovel. Snow always drifts and piles higher inside the Secret Garden, and the shade prevents early melting. As I began digging, I quickly uncovered a cylindrical channel leading from one of the stone walls toward the tree. Drawing closer to the trunk, I could see tiny bits of bark scattered about the white tunnel. I slumped down in the snow. Still digging, as I uncovered one side of the stripped trunk, I started to cry. I knew what I would find, and I was right. The tree had been completely girdled (living bark gnawed clean off in a full circle around the trunk). If you’ve never seen this kind of rodent-damage before, my reaction may seem a bit over-dramatic. But if you’ve ever experienced the heartbreak of losing a beloved tree or shrub to winter girdling, you will understand. The rodents must have begun their chewing after the sap started to run in late February. As the weather warmed, the tree began to leaf out. What a pathetic scene. The gorgeous crimson-tipped leaves and coral-pink stems taunted me as I watched them unfurl; knowing that this would be my beautiful, young tree’s last spring. I couldn’t bear to dig it up, and I couldn’t stand to walk through the garden.
The beautiful leaves of The Blue Green Dragon (Acer palmatum x dissectum ‘Seiryu’) in Springtime
Eventually, I came to accept reality, and I removed the ‘Butterfly’ from my garden. I could not find another specimen, so I changed course, dug up the earth, and planted a young Stewartia pseudocamilla in her place.She is, of course, stunning in that spot. And one day, I will create another protected nook and bring a new ‘Butterfly’ to my garden.
If you have young trees and shrubs with tender bark in your garden, protecting those valuable plants from winter rodent damage is absolutely essential. Every November, I pull out my homemade wire tubes and surround the base of my precious plants. You can buy protective tree tubes at many garden centers, or easily make your own from fine wire mesh sheeting (available at most hardware stores). I had extra metal lath leftover from several construction projects, and that works well too. The important thing is that the spaces between the wires be small enough to prevent the tiniest of mice from slipping into the tube. Make the width of the cylinder about twice the diameter of the tree, and at least 18″ tall (depending on average snow depth, you may want to make your cylinder two feet tall) For extra insurance, I often spray the bark of my trees with hot pepper wax before securing the wire tubes, and I also pour a few inches of sharp gravel around the base of the tube to prevent tunneling.
Gently settle the tube around the tree and push slightly into the mulch. Take care not to damage shallow-rooted trees like Japanese maple by pushing wire into the tender roots at the surface.
Secure the tube with medium-guage steel wire. Gasp! Put down those Felcos! Use wire cutters to snip that steel!
Secure the tube well, tucking the wire beneath itself to prevent injury to your fingers in springtime
This is what the tube looks like when properly installed around the base of the tree. Once you have made them, you can easily recycle them from year to year. Replace them every November. Larger trees can withstand a bit of mouse gnawing. Mature trees, with tough bark, rarely experience gnawing. But, I protect all of my smooth-barked specimen trees. It only takes about a half an hour to do my entire (very large) garden.
Japanese Golden Forest Grass (Hachonechloa macra ‘Aureola’) continues to provide late season color in the Secret Garden, and…
It also provides a bit of camouflage for my Stewartia’s protective, wire tree-tube
Before long, the silver-grey tubes in my garden will be buried beneath the snow. But because I am a garden designer, I am very preoccupied with how the garden looks throughout the seasons. So, I try to plant a ‘screen’ at the base of my young trees to help conceal these seasonal tubes in late autumn. In the photo above, golden Japanese forest grass (Hakonechloa macra ‘Aureola’) and Heuchera ‘Palace Purple’ provide a fine camouflage.
And although I still pine for my ‘Butterfly’, I accept that sometimes accidents happen. My garden is important to me, but my family and friends are far more important. I’m happy to report that thanks to the team of medical professionals at the VA Hospital in West Roxbury, MA, my father made a full recovery from the heart surgery that saved his life. And every year on November 11th, as I go out in the morning to faithfully wrap my trees, I am reminded of the many veterans I met during my father’s stay at the Veterans Hospital four years ago. Thank you for your service to our country dad, and thank you to all of your brothers and sisters in arms. We are ever-grateful for your sacrifice, and we salute you.
A Time of Reflection- Veterans Day, November 11th
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Article and Photographs (with exception noted & linked) ⓒ Michaela at TGE
All content on this site, (with noted exceptions), is the property of The Gardener’s Eden and may not be used or reproduced without prior written consent. Inspired by something you see here? Great! Please give credit where credit is due. It’s a small world and link-love makes for fond friendships. Stealing makes for bad dreams…
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Acer palmatum x dissectum ‘Seiryu’ and Viburnum bodnantense ‘Dawn’at the Secret Garden Entry in Early November
It seems to me that the first week of November flew by in a complete blur. This morning I awoke to howling wind and the unmistakable sound of sleet blasting the windowpanes. In one short week, the vast majority of deciduous trees surrounding my home have shed their late autumn foliage. Looking out at the hillside today, only rust-colored beech leaves and deep-green conifer needles remain.
As I watch the high winds whipping about my garden —stripping leaves and knocking plants to and fro— I’m glad that I made time to snap a few photos during last week’s grand, color-finale. For although I do love the subtle textures and muted hues of winter, I always mourn the end of autumn’s brilliant color-spectacle. The season is changing quickly now, shifting toward the darkness and stark, skeletal landscapes. But before it all slips away, let’s take a walk through the colorful foliage in the garden; soaking up the warm color and glowing light…
Vibrant Late-Season Foliage – The leaves of Acer palmatum x dissectum ‘Seiryu’ change slowly and hold long at the Secret Garden Door
Acer palmatum x dissectum ‘Seiryu’ and Daphne x burkwoodi ‘Carol Mackie’
Acer palmatum x dissectum ‘Seiryu’ – The Reflected Red Foliage Flickering Like Flames in the Water
As the flame grass fades to tawny bronze, Amsonia illustris (foreground), Lysimachia clethroides, Fothergilla ‘Mt Airy’ and the golden color of Hemerocallis foliage light up the entry garden and walkway against a backdrop of Juniperus x Pfitzeriana ‘Sea Green’
Although the majority of birch leaves (Betula papyrifera) have fallen, colorful plants —including those listed above as well as Aster oblongifolium ‘Raydon’s Favorite’, Clethra alnifolia ‘Ruby Spice’, Amsonia hubrichtii, and Cornus kousa— continue to provide autumn color in the garden
Close-up of Miscanthus sinensis ‘Purpurascens’, Fothergilla ‘Mt Airy’, Lysimachia clethroides and Rudbeckia hirta seed pods, against a backdrop of ‘Sea Green’ Juniperus x Pfitzeriana
The same grouping of plants pictured above, viewed from the opposite side of the walkway
In front of the Secret Garden wall, Cornus kousa glows like a bonfire (backed here by Juniperus x Pfitzeriana ‘Sea Green’ and fronted by Juniperus sargentii). As the last yellowing leaves fall from Ilex verticillata ‘Red Sprite’, her beautiful red berries stand out like bits of luminous confetti against the blue-green juniper. Throughout November, Fothergilla ‘Mt Airy’ and Pennisetum alopecuroides ‘Hameln’ add a splash of orange and gold to this garden’s foreground.
In my garden, two of the very last trees to drop their leaves are the Cornus kousa in front of the Secret Garden wall (from Walker Farm in Dummerston, VT) and the Acer palmatum x dissectum ‘Seiryu’ at the Secret Garden entry (see list above for other plants in this border)
The high stone walls (built by artist Dan Snow) provide a buffer from the wind. This bit of extra protection is at least partly responsible for the lengthy autumn foliage display in this garden.
A. palmatum x dissectum ‘Seiryu’ forms a flaming red arch above the Secret Garden door
Looking inside the Secret Garden on a rainy, early November day. In autumn, the chartreuse color of Hakonechloa macra ‘Aureola’ intensifies to an even more luminous-hue. I love gazing upon its beauty on rainy days. For a listing of other plants in this garden, see the Secret Garden page at left.
The beautiful autumn color of Cornus kousa was my primary motivation when planting this tree (purchased from Walker Farm) five years ago. Now that it has reached a more substantial height, it can be enjoyed from inside the Secret Garden and Garden Room as well as from the front walkway. Plants visible in the foreground include Rodgersia aesculifolia and to the right, Paeonia mouton x lutea ‘High Noon’ (both from Walker Farm).
The reflected foliage of A. plamatum x dissectum ‘Seiryu’. This semi-frost-proof water bowl will remain outdoors until early December, when I empty it and bring it inside for the winter.
Schizophragma hydrangeoides ‘Roseum’ in November’s Secret Garden – In late autumn, the deep green foliage lights up the dark stone wall with its brilliant-chartreuse fall color
Although the native forest (background) has shed most of its leaves —save the burnt-orange beech in the background here— the Secret Garden continues to celebrate with a grand finale of color (A. palmatum x dissectum ‘Seiryu’, Fothergilla gardenii, Hosta ‘August Moon’ and various ground covering perennials; including Heuchera, Euphorbia and Bergenia)
A Last Look at Autumn’s Beautiful Reflection
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Article and Photographs ⓒ Michaela at TGE
All content on this site, (with noted exceptions), is the property of The Gardener’s Eden and may not be used or reproduced without prior written consent. Inspired by something you see here? Great! Please give credit where credit is due. It’s a small world and link-love makes for fond friendships. Stealing makes for bad dreams…
Do you enjoy visiting The Gardener’s Eden? You can help support this site by shopping through our affiliate links. Advertisers do not pay for editorial placement here, but do remit a small percentage of any sale originating from The Gardener’s Eden affiliate links to this site. All proceeds will go toward web hosting and maintenance costs. Thank you for your support!
November 1st, 2010 § Comments Off on Welcome November… § permalink
Young American beech (Fagus grandifolia) and eastern cottonwood (Populus deltoides) trees in the November morning mist
November. Beech and cottonwood trees —colored butterscotch and rum— warm the misty hills and blue-grey clouds. The season has changed -almost overnight. At night the wood stove flickers and glows and the smell of pumpkin pie and mulled cider fills the air…
American beech (Fagus grandifolia) in delicious shades of golden butterscotch and rum
Firelight
Flame grass shifts to burnt orange (Miscanthus sinensis purpurascens)
American beech (Fagus grandifolia)
Lingering maple leaves in a sea of orangey beech, along my country road
Autumn Brook, Filled with Leaves
October Swirls Away…
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Article and Photographs ⓒ Michaela at TGE
All content on this site, (with noted exceptions), is the property of The Gardener’s Eden and may not be used or reproduced without prior written consent. Inspired by something you see here? Great! Please give credit where credit is due. It’s a small world and link-love makes for fond friendships. Stealing makes for bad dreams…
Do you enjoy visiting The Gardener’s Eden? You can help support this site by shopping through our affiliate links. Advertisers do not pay for editorial placement here, but do remit a small percentage of any sale originating from The Gardener’s Eden affiliate links to this site. All proceeds will go toward web hosting and maintenance costs. Thank you for your support!
“When I look out my Window, Many sights to see. And when I look out my window, So many different people to be …That it’s strange, so strange.”
“You’ve got to pick up every stitch, You’ve got to pick up every stitch, You’ve got to pick up every stitch …Mm, must be the Season of the Witch, Must be the Season of the Witch, yea…”
“Must be the Season of the Witch…”
Witch Hazel (Hamamelis vernalis) – Turns Brilliant Gold in Late Autumn
Dwarf Witch Alder (Fothergilla gardenii) – Radiates an Eerie Orange Glow in the Secret Garden
I caught her last night in the garden; blowing around in the wind and casting her spells in the drizzly shadows. She’s a changeling and she’s a wild thing. You never know how she will appear from one minute to the next. Red? Orange? Yellow? Perhaps all three hues will turn up in her autumn brew. Yes, she’s the garden witch, and this is indeed her season…
Witch Alder (Fothergilla major ‘Mt Airy’) is My Answer to Burning Bush in the Garden
Hamamelis (witch hazel) and Fothergilla (witch alder) are two of the most spellbinding woody plants in my garden. The magical blossoms of Hamamelis x intermedia ‘Diane’ light up the gloomy days of March with color and scent, and later her cousins, the Fothergilla, take over with bewitching blossoms in April and May (read more about Hamamelis x intermedia ‘Diane’ by clicking here, and Fothergilla by clicking here). But it’s the witching hour — late October and November in my garden— when these sorceresses truly light up the gathering gloom…
The Wild, Red Witch (Fothergilla ‘Mt Airy’) raging along the walkway in late October
The family of Hamamelidaceae is a large group that includes both spring and autumn blooming Witch Hazels (native Hamamelis vernalis and Hamamelis mollis) and their cousins, the Witch Alders (among other woody plants). Although the spring-blooming Witch Hazels tend to me more dramatic in the early part of the year, the autumn blooming species provides both stunning foliage and fragrant flowers in fall (it is definitely harder to spot the sweetly-scented yellow blossoms on my autumn blooming Hamamelis mollis behind the golden foliage). Some of the most gorgeous autumn color in the garden belongs to the Witch Hazel hybrids; particularly H x intermedia ‘Diane’, ‘Jelena’ and ‘Arnold’s Promise’. Although a separate species, Fothergilla is equally magical, and often more flamboyant in her end-of-season color display. A dwarf Witch Alder (Fothergilla gardenii) is planted in the corner of my Secret Garden, where she is just now turning brilliant orangey-yellow. Elsewhere in the garden, Fothergilla major ‘Mt Airy’ glow red, orange, yellow and every imaginable shade in between…
Witch Hazel ‘Diane’ (Hamamelis x intermedia ‘Diane’) – Autumn Color Variation
Witch Hazel ‘Diane’ (Hamamelis x intermedia ‘Diane’) – Autumn Color Variation
Witch Alder (Fothergilla major ‘Mt Airy’) Leaf Color Variation
Most members of the Hamamelidaceae family prefer moist, semi-acidic soil and mostly sunny to partially shady conditions (in nature, they are forest edge and understory trees and shrubs). Some Witch Hazels and Witch Alders are quite hardy in northern climates; all of those mentioned here are reliable in USDA zones 4-9. In the garden, they are enchanting in autumn when paired with late-season flowers (including anemone and aster) fall-blooming crocus, ornamental grasses, and conifers (including shade-tolerant Microbiota). Catching a rooted witch is far easier than snagging the airborne variety: no net is necessary, simply stop in your local garden center and poke around the sales aisles…
Can You Catch the Witch?
This Story’s Inspiration Comes from ‘Season of the Witch’ by Donovan…
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After posting an aerial photo of a local corn maze last week, I received a couple of emails asking about how I managed to get the shot. Well, the short answer is that I took the photo from my airplane. But of course, there’s much more to the story than that. So, if you’re curious about my flying, read on…
I’ve been a licensed pilot for more than a decade now, but I fell in love with aviation when I was just a little girl. Growing up in rural New England in the 70s and 80s —with farms, orchards and forests all around— the sight of small, agricultural aircraft was commonplace. Spotting a yellow ‘crop-duster’ — the pilot buzzing our house on the way to neighboring corn and potato fields— was a regular occurrence on summer days. I can still remember the hazy, white clouds of acrid, chemical-laden dust hanging in the air after the little yellow biplane made a few low passes over the farm next door. When my mother heard the plane coming, she worried out-loud about pesticides the Ag Cat was dumping on her children —as well as her berry crops, vegetables and freshly washed laundry— and if she could catch us, she always made us come indoors. Of course, like most children, my sister and I were far more interested in the excitement of the airplane than the potential threat of toxins in the air. So, if we were out of ‘assumed ear-shot’, we would run —arms waiving wildly— to the path leading to our neighbor’s corn fields. We had no sense of the many dangers, and we loved to watch that yellow biplane dip and rise in gravity-defying arcs on the horizon. It just looked like such a blast. Years later, when I was training for my own pilot’s license, I discovered that the yellow biplane flying over my house was a Grumman Ag Cat (see photo-link above).
By the late 80s, when I was a teenager, the neighboring corn fields had vanished. First, a house was built, and then the remaining land was subdivided into more lots. No more corn, no more biplane, and no more crop dusting. By this time I was 15 or 16, and I’d grown wise to the dangers of pesticides. Although I once loved watching its aerobatic maneuvers above my house, I was happy to see that toxic little airplane go. Cancer eventually took the lives of my neighbors, solidifying my distaste for chemical farming and my mistrust of agricultural chemical companies. Sometimes I’m surprised that this didn’t discourage my love of flying. But I suppose even then, I knew full-well that aviation made many good things possible; like spotting and fighting forest fires, search and rescue missions, agricultural and environmental research, mapping and of course travel, to name but a few. Airplanes remained a source of endless fascination and my interest continued to grow. A few miles from my home, two local pilots had a pair of pleasure planes stored in a big, old dairy barn. One airplane was a yellow J3 Cub, and the other was a beautiful, cherry-red Taylorcraft (see photo-link above). On days when the airplanes were pulled out —gleaming in sunlit fields— I was filled with the most indescribable longing. I wanted to get up there. I wanted to see everything…
Cornfields Along the Connecticut River
Years passed, and after college at UMass Amherst, I lived in the Bay Area of California for a time. While out west, I took a number of scenic flights in the Eastern Sierra Nevada, Inyo and Death Valley. Eager to continue exploring on my own, I started setting aside money for flight training, and when I moved back home to Vermont, I decided to take to the air. I joined the UMass Collegiate Flying Club (open to the alumni, faculty and staff of UMass and five college consortium), and started taking flying lessons in the club’s little red and white Cessna 152. Six months later, I had my private pilot’s license. Four years ago, I bought an old, neglected airplane (A 1946 Luscombe 8A Silvaire), which I am currently restoring and flying in my spare time. I love to get up in the air and experience the beauty of the landscape from above. It’s great inspiration…
The Pioneer Valley from Above (Airport runway is on the upper left… see it?)
Final Approach to Landing at Turners Falls municipal airport
Carlos: my 1946 Luscombe 8A Silvaire, after many hours of restoration-polishing
That’s me with ‘Carlos’ in 2006 – Photo credit: William Bonnette
If you live in, or are visiting New England, and would like to see the landscape from above, I highly recommend a photo-flight with William Bonnette at Pioneer Aviation in Western Massachusetts. A one-hour photo flight is a fun and affordable way to experience the Connecticut River Valley and surrounding landscape (a photo flight or intro lesson also makes an unforgettable gift – certificates are available on his website here). Located right in the heart of the Pioneer Valley in Western Massachusetts, Turners Falls Municipal Airport is just a short car ride from most points in southern New Hampshire and Vermont, and less than two hours from Hartford, CT and Boston, MA. While it’s true that the views from a small airplane are a colorist’s delight in autumn, they are just as beautiful at any other time of the year. Bill Bonnette taught me to fly ten years ago. He’s been flying for more than thirty years, and he’s both an amazing pilot and flight instructor (he doesn’t need to pay for my recommendation, and he didn’t).
New England Photo Flights, Introductory Flight Lessons, Pilot Training and Gift Certificates
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Article and photographs (with noted exceptions) ⓒ Michaela at TGE
All content on this site, (with noted exceptions), is the property of The Gardener’s Eden and may not be used or reproduced without prior written consent. Inspired by something you see here? Great! Please give credit where credit is due. It’s a small world and link-love makes for fond friendships. Stealing makes for bad dreams…
Do you enjoy visiting The Gardener’s Eden? You can help support this site by shopping through our affiliate links. Advertisers do not pay for editorial placement here, but do remit a small percentage of any sale originating from The Gardener’s Eden affiliate links to this site. All proceeds will go toward web hosting and maintenance costs. Thank you for your support!
Red maple (Acer rubrum) with golden colored striped maple (Acer pensylvanicum), paper birch (Betula papyrifera) and American beech (Fagus grandifolia)
A week of notes from the Vermont forest, where the kaleidoscope of color changes from day to day and hour to hour. Scarlet red maples leaves, now fallen and scattered about the mossy paths, swirl back to life in wild October wind. The bronze-orange beech, honey-colored birch and lingering gold maple leaves transform the woodland to a gilded cathedral; striking against cerulean skies…
A cathedral of gilded arches – Sugar Maple (Acer saccharum) leaves
October Sky and Red Maple (Acer rubrum)
Fagus grandifolia: Leafy Gold and Bronze at the Door to the Woodland Pathway
Beech Branch (Fagus grandifolia – American beech)
Lingering Color in the Afternoon Light
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Article and photographs ⓒ Michaela at TGE
All content on this site, (with noted exceptions), is the property of The Gardener’s Eden and may not be used or reproduced without prior written consent. Inspired by something you see here? Great! Please give credit where credit is due. It’s a small world and link-love makes for fond friendships. Stealing makes for bad dreams…
Do you enjoy visiting The Gardener’s Eden? You can help support this site by shopping through our affiliate links. Advertisers do not pay for editorial placement here, but do remit a small percentage of any sale originating from The Gardener’s Eden affiliate links to this site. All proceeds will go toward web hosting and maintenance costs. Thank you for your support!
Autumn light, like golden honey dripping from branches, sweetens the chill of mid-October days. A stroll through the garden reveals a sunlit patch of earth —still empty. My eye follows the low rays, looking for opportunities to play with light and texture; a potential spot for a luminous shrub, feathery grass or sculptural group of silhouetted seed pods. Could this be the place for a new player in my garden’s late show? Morning and evening, I ask: where is the light? Where is the magic?
Viburnum plicatum var. tomentosum ‘Shasta’ (Shasta viburnum) lights up like stained glass in the western corner of the garden at sunset
Panicum virgatum ‘Heavy Metal’ (Switch Grass) is positioned to catch the light of both sunrise and sunset
Acer palmatum x dissectum ‘Seiryu’ catches early morning light in the eastern corner of the garden
Miscanthus sinensis purpurascens on the western edge of the garden, bathed in afternoon light
Halesia tetraptera Leaf in Water Bowl (Carolina silverbell)
This Cornus kousa (Korean dogwood), positioned on the east side of the terrace, glows in the morning light
Acer palmatum x dissectum ‘Seiryu’ and Daphne x burkwoodii ‘Carol Mackie’ at the eastern, side-entrance to the Secret Garden
Another look at the glowing foliage of Cornus kousa
Miscanthus sinensis tufts in early morning light
Viburnum trilobum ‘Bailey compact’ and Miscanthus sinensis ‘Morning light’ Shimmer and Sparkle at Dawn
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Article and photographs ⓒ Michaela at TGE
All content on this site, (with noted exceptions), is the property of The Gardener’s Eden and may not be used or reproduced without prior written consent. Inspired by something you see here? Great! Please give credit where credit is due. It’s a small world and link-love makes for fond friendships. Stealing makes for bad dreams…
Do you enjoy visiting The Gardener’s Eden? You can help support this site by shopping through our affiliate links. Advertisers do not pay for editorial placement here, but do remit a small percentage of any sale originating from The Gardener’s Eden affiliate links to this site. All proceeds will go toward web hosting and maintenance costs. Thank you for your support!
Grey skies and fog… Are those downpours drumming on my roof? Why yes! At long last, the heavens have opened up; two days and a forecast filled with showers! Suddenly saturated, the colors of early autumn seem to be singin’ and dancin’ in the rain. Chinese orange and plum, cherry red and dusty violet, saffron and rust; a rainbow of beauty without a trace of sun. So now, pull on your rain boots and pop on a bright yellow jacket. Come join me beneath my big umbrella and let’s go for a stroll ’round the September garden. It couldn’t be prettier outside. Why not splash in the puddles and have some fun…
Miscanthus sinensis ‘Morning Light’ and Viburnum trilobum ‘Bailey Compact’
Rodgersia aesculifolia and Stewartia pseudocamillia in the Secret Garden
Article and photographs (with last two exceptions) ⓒ Michaela at TGE
All content on this site, (with noted exceptions), is the property of The Gardener’s Eden and may not be used or reproduced without prior written consent. Inspired by something you see here? Great! Please give credit where credit is due. It’s a small world and link-love makes for fond friendships. Stealing makes for bad dreams…
Do you enjoy visiting The Gardener’s Eden? You can help support this site by shopping through our affiliate links. Advertisers do not pay for editorial placement here, but do remit a small percentage of any sale originating from The Gardener’s Eden affiliate links to this site. All proceeds will go toward web hosting and maintenance costs. Thank you for your support!
October 23rd, 2009 § Comments Off on Autumn Brilliance Part Three: Plant Partners for the Late Show and Early Winter Marquee… § permalink
Acer palmatum x dissectum ‘Seiryu’ in late October
By late October, much of the foliage in the forest surrounding my garden has passed its peak. Although the woods are still basking in the glow of golden birch and poplar, lemony striped maple, rusty red oak and amber colored beech – the vibrant orange and red maple leaves are now carpeting the woodland paths, where they rustle in the wind and crunch beneath my feet. Walks through the forest in late autumn are a fragrant affair; scented with musky dampness and memories. There is a beautiful sadness in the woods at this time of year – a melancholy enhanced by frequently-foggy mornings and low-lit afternoons…
Acer palmatum x dissectum ‘Seiryu’ foliage in late October
In my garden, most flowers vanished with the recent hard frost – but the ornamental fruit and foliage, stars of autumn’s late-show, are still going strong. Now through mid November, the leading role belongs to my favorite tree, Acer palmatum x dissectum ‘Seiryu’. This Japanese maple, commonly known as ‘The Blue-Green Dragon’, (currently the only upright dissected-leaf cultivar), is planted at the bottom edge of a slope near my studio where it arches over the Secret Garden door. The Blue-Green Dragon is prized for its lacy, delicately cut foliage and its late season color. A true chameleon, this dragon changes from sea-green to golden chartreuse before lighting a brilliant blaze of orange. Finally, in mid November, the dragon’s heat simmers down to a coppery hue as her leaves slowly drop to the hidden walkway below. Nearby, Daphne x burkwoodii, ‘Carol Mackie’, has begun her own transformation; morphing from variegated green and white to a citrusy blend of lemon yellow, sweet orange and sour lime. The contrast between these two plants is particularly stunning in the last week of October and the first few days of November. Closer to ground-level, Bergenia ‘Bressingham Ruby’, planted at the foot of the entry wall to the Secret Garden, shines like a candy apple. Glossy green and elegant during the summer months, by late autumn Bergenia’s foliage has shifted hues from green to orange to cherry red – until finally settling on the ruby-wine color she will hold throughout the early winter months….
Bergenia ‘Bressingham Ruby’
Secret Garden door in October
Further along the garden path, nestled into the nooks and crannies between ledgy outcrops bordering the main garden entrance, Calluna and Erica have begun to turn up their heat just as temperatures here dip below freezing. Calluna vulgaris ‘Multicolor’ has shifted to a shocking shade of vermillion, emphasized by the contrasting blue-tinted foliage of nearby Calluna vulgaris ‘Silver Knight’ and Juniperous horizontalis ‘Wiltonii’. Tiny lavender blossoms continue to flush the tips of the ‘Silver Knight’ heather, in spite of the cold – I gather them up in tiny bouquets for my kitchen table.
Ground covering woody plants, such as Calluna, Erica, Stephanadra, and Cotoneaster, offer vibrant late season color that combines well with with a wide variety of evergreens. Some of my favorites include juniper, (of all sizes and habits), Siberian cypress, (Microbiota), hemlock, (Tsuga), spruce, (Abies) and yew (Taxus). Blue-green masses of foliage and bronzing needle tips provide a soothing foreground or lush, calm backdrop for the more intense, late -autumnal hues in perennial and shrub borders…
Calluna vulgaris ‘Multicolor’ and ‘Silver Knight’, planted with Juniperus horizontalis ‘Wiltonii’, (Blue rug), along the ledgy walkway at Ferncliff…
Calluna vulgaris ‘Multicolor’, forms a blazing carpet against the gray ledge in late October…
Juniperus squamata ‘Holger’, along the Secret Garden steps in October
Stephanandra incisa ‘Crispa’ glows golden-orange against the gray stone wall steps in late October
Stephanandra incisa and Juniperus Pfitzeriana ‘Aurea’ make a beautiful autumn pairing…
Of course fruiting shrubs and trees play an important role in my garden at this time of year and throughout the winter months. Yes, I fully admit to an obsession with colored berries. I collect and treasure fruiting shrubs for their shimmering, confetti-dot effect. While these plants are a feast for the eyes as winter draws near and color grows scarce, more importantly, their berries provide natural food for birds including the finch, cedar wax wings, cardinals and many others. As mentioned in my previous posts, (Autumn Brilliance Part One and also Autumn Brilliance Part Two), Callicarpa dichotoma and Viburnum, including the black-fruited V. carlesii, (Korean spice viburnum), provide berries for many of my feathered friends. As late fall shifts to early winter, other fruiting plants, such as Cotoneaster, begin to stand out in the garden. Ground-hugging Cotoneaster is a great partner for stonewalls, particularly in late autumn, when the bright red fruit and rusty foliage radiates in vibrant contrast to the rock’s cool, gray surface. I like to combine horizontal juniper cultivars with Cotoneaster, allowing both to trail down the side of retaining walls. Bright blue juniper berries sparkle on frosty mornings until they are devoured by hungry chipmunks and song sparrows. Ilex verticillata ‘Red sprite‘, a long-standing winter favorite, is just beginning its show-stopping performance. This mass of winterberry in my entry garden never fails to lift my spirits during the cold, raw days of late November. In the foreground, blue-tinted Juniperus chinensis ‘Sargentii’ enhances the orange-red brilliance of the berries and the beautiful gray-tones of Dan Snow’s stone wall rise up from behind. When snow finally dusts the winterberry branches, the red fruits float like cherries in a bowl of cream…
Ilex verticillata ‘Red sprite’ with Juniperus chinensis ‘Sargentii’ in late October
Ilex verticillata ‘Red sprite’ with Juniperus chinensis ‘Sargentti’ in late October
Juniperus squamata ‘Holger’ and Thymus
Cotoneaster dammeri ‘Eichholz’s, leaves turn burgundy red after the hard frost in October
This Juniperus horizontalis provides blue berries in addition to sea green foliage
Viburnum carlesii, (Korean Spice Viburnum), provides late autumn foliage and black fruit. A small sized shrub, (3′ x 3′), Korean Spice Viburnum is generous with her fragrant flowers in spring…
Callicarpa dichotoma ‘Issai’, shown in an earlier post with golden foliage, is pictured after the hard frost in late October- looking even more magical than before…
Rich brown and subtle bronze tones also begin to appear in the late season, creating opportunities for harmonious pairings with brightly colored foliage and fruit. The cobalt violet hue of Callicarpa dichotoma ‘Issai’ berries, (above), seems even brighter once the shrub’s foliage turns a warm copper brown. Likewise, Microbiota decussata, (Siberian cypress), slowly burnishes from forest green to warm bronze as temperatures dip, playing beautifully against the orange-chartreuse tones of nearby moss and the pyrotechnic-color display of Enkianthus campanulatus ‘Red Bells’, planted at the corner of the walkway…
Microbiota decussata, (Siberian cypress), with Thyme and Moss on the path to the Northwest meadow in October…
Enkianthus companulatus ‘Red Bells’, in October
Microbiota decussata, autumn color close-up
Northwest path to the meadow with a view of amber colored beech in the distance
Although most of the flowers in my garden have faded away, some, such as Geranium ‘Brookside’, continue to surprise me past the first few frosts. When a fuchsia veined, blue-violet bloom appears amid the bright orange and yellow leaves of this gorgeous cranesbill, it can light up a gray October day almost as brightly as the sun. Placed near the golden autumn foliage of Amsonia illustris‘, this plant can easily stop me in my tracks with or without her stunning flowers. The dark hues of Physocarpus opulifolius ‘Diablo’ foliage, (or P. opulifolius ‘Summer wine’, or ‘Coppertinia’), pair nicely with these brighter plants, as do many ornamental grasses, dark violet colored sedum and verdigris tinted juniper…
Geranium ‘Brookside’ foliage turns brilliant orange and scarlet. and continues to produce violet blue blossoms with fuscia veins well past the hard frost…
Amsonia illustris, in the entry walk – golden autumn color enhanced by the late frost and nearby orange-hued ornamental grasses in October
Physocarpus opulifolius ‘Diablo’ foliage color, varies from deep oxblood red…
to burnished amber…
May the colors of late autumn lift your spirits and encourage you to venture out into the garden with an eye toward extending the season. With a bit of effort and planning, almost any patch of earth can provide a season-spanning garden, filled with color and texture throughout the year. I will meet you back here in just a bit, with more design inspiration for the coming months…
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Article and photographs copyright 2009, Michaela at The Gardener’s Eden
All content on this site, (with noted exceptions), is the sole property of The Gardner’s Eden and may not be used or reproduced without express, written consent. Inspired by something you see here? Please give credit where credit is due. It’s a small world and link-love makes for fond friendships. Stealing makes for bad dreams…
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The Blue Green Dragon has Her Autumn Fire Cooled by Old Man Winter
And the Lovely Scarlet Leaves of this Cornus kousa Catch a Premature Chill
Snow-Dusted Loungers, Shiver out on the Balcony
Taking in the Chilly-Looking, North-Western View
Frozen Leaf-Dance in the Water Bowl. Perhaps it’s Time to Gather in the Pots
And Tuck the Secret Garden in for a Long Winter’s Nap 
Fire and Ice: Cornus kousa in Snow. 
Inspiration: 
That’s me with ‘Carlos’ in 2006 – Photo credit: William Bonnette
A cathedral of gilded arches – Sugar Maple (Acer saccharum) leaves
Fagus grandifolia: Leafy Gold and Bronze at the Door to the Woodland Pathway
Miscanthus sinensis purpurascens on the western edge of the garden, bathed in afternoon light
Raindrops on Pennisetum alopecuroides ‘Hameln’ (Fountain Grass)
Viburnum trilobum ‘Bailey Compact’ and Miscanthus sinensis ‘Morning Light’ (detail)
