one last hurrah

This morning it really felt like fall — not even early fall, but fall fall. I love early fall: the cool, crisp mornings, the earlier nights, that feeling that you're stealing time when you stay out, trying to catch that last light.

I hate actual fall. It's cold and dreary and I can never find anything to wear. I've dug out my wool socks but it's too warm for sweaters, too, so I freeze in my t-shirts (even the long sleeved ones), or boil in my t-shirt-plus-jacket. This morning I woke up before the dawn, and when I left the house I saw leaves — note the plural, not the singular — drift to the ground, and when I got to work I was still cold, and so: it's fall, actually fall. Unhappily so.

In any case, I really wasn't expecting to post about the garden again. I mean that in a good way: I have, as mentioned before, nothing that is an autumn bloomer; everything is supposed to go into dormancy soon. I suppose the cooler (but still sunny) days were good for them, though, because the garden has actually been blooming: one last hurrah before winterfall.



The 'PowWow Wild Berry' echinacea. Two blooms means that it's not a fluke, I think. It's not as wild and fervent as it would be at, say, the height of August, but then, what in the garden is? The echinacea is a repeat bloomer, and can bloom into October — but generally only when it's established. So this is a good sign.

And the 'Amber Sun' roses, after a period of dormancy — I had stopped deadheading because I wanted the bushes to start preparing for winter — well, they had a little resurgence, too.



And so did 'The Fairy' roses, which haven't bloomed consistently since late July, but now have masses of buds.



And finally, I saw this on the last remaining rose, 'Graham Thomas.'



I took this picture last week, and the bud hasn't opened, so I hope I'm not counting chicks prematurely. This rose is the only one of the five that didn't bloom, which is already a much better average than I could have hoped for. It still seemed reasonably healthy, though — and it has a branch — vine? — that is reaching near five feet, its nominal grown-in height, so I think it will be fine. But flowers would be lovely. They are — they should be, I am hoping that they will be — a buttery yellow.