Marking Fall Again

It has become a wholesome habit to post this time of year a picture that reflects the still-bright colors of the Fall. For a while we had some pumpkins growing from our compost heap (link). Three years ago today we featured our barrel overflowing with Coleus (link); in year 11 we celebrated two vast tomato plants (link), last year the brightness came from a sweet potato vine (link). Well, the Coleus Barrel is full once again, but not quite so dramatically. And our tomato plants—we have twice as many as ever before—have concentrated on productivity rather than dramatic growth. Hence we return, for color, to the Geraniums that front the entrance to our back yard. These geraniums are many years old. Late each autumn Brigitte cuts them back, leaving stalks about four- to five-inches in place, and each season they return with vigor.

Yes, some Coleus is present here as well; if we had planted those in the barrel—behind me as I took this picture—that barrel would be more full. And this year our tomatoes have been moved to a sunnier spot, in the back and the right.

In a way, judging by the glorious weather we have today, with the skies a cerulean blue, this is one of the finest times of the year. Indian summer, as officially defined, anyway, is still ahead. That requires a significant heat wave preceded by a killing frost. Cerulean, incidentally, is Brigitte’s current word of the season. Wikipedia denies that it is sky blue but opines that the word derives from the Latin caelulum, a diminutive of caelum which is Latin for sky or heaven. A heavenly season, anyway.

Marking Autumn

We make our farewell to the summer past and the autumn just arrived with this bouquet of “flowers,” perhaps the most spectacular product of our garden this season. The flowers are in quotes because it is the leaves of the Coleus that give it its perennial distinction. The flowers are lovely too, but they are delicate blues and pass rapidly in Spring.

This year’s passage from summer to fall had the unusual feature—we’re told that it takes place at twenty-year intervals. On the night of the autumnal equinox, the harvest moon is full. We were lucky: clear skies. We were out in the garden, near the Coleus in its half-barrel, and looking up saw the bright full moon with Jupiter marking a tiny but equally bright spot immeditately beneath it at the six o’clock spot.

The plaque above the Coleus is a favorite too. Here it is close enough up to make its meassage readable.