Early Autumn vignettes from the garden

Garlic blossoms gone to seed

The last of the sunflowers

My favorite form of a birdfeeder--a sunflower gone to seed. Looks like the birds liked it too.

A feather left behind

Observations from studying a sunflower

Have you ever looked at the center of a sunflower... really looked? It's made up of tiny little flowers--golden stars so small you can't see them unless you look closely. It takes so many to make up the center. And each one becomes a seed someday.

Have you taken the time to stroke a sunflower petal gently between your fingers? It's soft and thin but supple and alive. It feels warm yet cool at the same time. How is that possible?

Have you stopped to realize that even though a bug has chewed a hole in some of the petals of a sunflower it's still incredibly beautiful? It doesn't matter that technically it's "flawed". It's beautiful. It epitomizes an entire season of the year. It can brighten someone's day in an instant. And it can do all this even with slight imperfections.

This particular bloom grew up into the branches of the Eureka lemon tree. With the support of the tree, the giant head of the sunflower didn't weigh down the stem. It never leaned over under the weight and held it's head up high even as the bloom began to fade.

So many lessons I can learn from the sunflower.

Sometimes when you just leave things alone, beauty happens

I think one of the hardest lessons for me to learn has been... sometimes when you just leave things alone, beauty happens. Thankfully, my garden reinforces this concept to me often enough that my thick-headedness never gets too out of control before I see it evidenced again and remember, "Oh yeah! Just calm down. You don't have to control everything. Leave things alone and beauty happens."

During the winter, I put out seeds for the birds that are wintering over here because the bugs aren't as numerous as in warmer months. After much trial and error, I've finally concluded that the only seeds I need to put out are simple black sunflower seeds. Even the smallest birds prefer them to other seed. I will also put out some suet cakes for the chickadees and woodpeckers that like to forage differently than the others. 

Everyone gets fed, and I get an added bonus... 

I get sunflowers!

Birds are messy eaters and inevitably stray sunflower seeds end up on the ground under and around the feeders. I don't have any lawn to mow in our garden so the seeds can stay where they fall. The winter and spring rain waters them, and I end up with at least half a dozen or more volunteers that sprout and bloom.

When this sunflower's petals of sunshine are spent, I'll leave the stalk standing and let the seeds ripen in the hot summer sun. The birds will come along and feed from it like a natural bird-feeder. And some seeds will fall to the ground and become volunteers for possibly some autumnal sunflowers (having them bloom in October is the best treat). Some may even winter over and produce blooms for next spring once the winter rain hits them.

Such a beautiful natural cycle repeats over and over... if I simply leave things alone.

Autumn in the Rosehaven Cottage gardens: Sun's last rays

Digitally painted photo

In between the much-needed rain showers we've been receiving this week, I took the time to duck out into the garden and take some photos of the last vestiges of summer as well as the first signs of autumn.

Summer lasts longer and autumn comes later here in our climate. Sunflowers are a flower of August, September and October for me. This lovely is one of the last bunch blooming in the shaggy front garden that is in dire need of a "haircut".

Until the last heatwaves end and the autumn rains come in the latter part of October, the garden has to remain on the shaggy side to conserve water and prevent burn that could occur on newly trimmed roses and other bushes. The uncut fennel and sunflowers going to seed on their heady high stalks make for lovely natural bird feeders where finches, oak titmice and bushtits feed on their delectable seeds. The birds' flitting provides copious entertainment for the indoor kitties as they peer out the large living room picture window. With noses almost touching the glass their teeth chatter and whiskers twitter silently as they enjoy the show.

Over the next few posts, I'll be showing more vignettes of what this unique seasonal transition looks like in our gardens here at Rosehaven Cottage.

The above image is available in fine art prints and canvases by clicking here

Early bloomer

Rain clouds have covered the sky all day, so imagine my delight when I saw a spot of "sunshine" in the back corner of the garden by the bay leaf tree. I've never had a sunflower this early in the year before (usually don't get them until at least July). Its sunny face on a cloudy day was quite a pleasant surprise.

Green and Yellow Flames

"Yellow Sunflower Flames"
Click here or above to download this as a free desktop/wallpaper for your computer

The sunflowers in the front garden have been late in blooming. They've spent an inordinate amount of time growing their thick green stalks very high into the air. Finally they've begun to show their glory.

"Green Sunflower Flames"
Click here or above to download this as a free desktop/wallpaper for your computer

Around the Garden...

There are many things happening around the garden...

An "Irish Cream" rosebud begins to open its caramel-dipped petals.



Like the round cheeks of a freckled schoolgirl,
the pomegranates blush.
"Autumn isn't so far away," they say.



Nature has placed the sun on a stem--
brightening the garden,
making it glow.


The teacup blossoms of the "Angel Face" rose
seem to be set out for a garden tea party...



And the tea party guests sometimes have a difficult time remaining cordial
as they gather for the affair.

Click the box above to follow me on Twitter

Secrets Within My "Secret Garden"

Continuing on from the last post...

There are nooks and crannies everywhere throughout the front garden that hide little pretties here and there. I love taking a slow stroll through the garden and spying new discoveries that are growing on their own--most without any intention on my part.

The square green pot on the front porch right next to the red front door is one of those spots. It seems that it is a favorite place for volunteers to pop up. Earlier this spring it was the site of my volunteer sweet peas and then some blue lobelia spilled forth on the backside of the pot in late spring.

Now there is a lovely crop of morning glory vines with their heart-shaped leaves and deep blue blossoms. This dark variety of morning glory is called Grandpa Ott.

Last summer, I received some plants from my dear friend who's a horticultural guru and instructor at our local college. After enjoying them immensely, I let them go to seed at the end of the season last fall, letting them wither and dry up. Then I popped some of the seeds out and poked them into the soil of the pot sometime in January. I didn't know if they'd sprout or not. Looks like they did!

This year's flowers have stayed true in color to last year's "parents". The blue is so dark and deep I feel like I could fall into it. I just love it! It speaks to my passion for blue flowers.

What's really neat about this batch is that the vines don't send out their blossoms all at once. It's like each flower gets its own turn to have a show before the next comes on stage.

Because the pot is right next to the door, I can keep a really good eye on what's trying to surprise me there.

But there are so many other spots in the garden that aren't like that. I have to get really "up close and personal" in order to see some of the secrets hidden elsewhere. And sometimes things are hidden in plain view. Just take a look at this.

Does anyone know what kind of lily this is? [You can click on the image to make it larger if you need to get a closer look.]

I'm assuming it's a lily. I don't remember planting it. I've never had it before in the garden, nor have I ever seen it before EVER.

Is it a spider lily? I almost missed this completely because it's growing in the midst of some bunches of blue fescue grass that camouflages it expertly. Even photographing it was a bit difficult. But I had to post it so I could get some idea of what it is. Talk about a surprise.

About 3 feet away is another set of shoots with thick waxy leaves coming up that look very similar to this one's leaves. I'm wondering if I'm going to get a two-fer surprise. Wouldn't that be neat?!?!

Click here to follow me on Twitter

Sunflower Sunday

Today, just outside the little red door of Rosehaven Cottage blooms the first sunflower of this summer. The pale lemon-yellow sunflower is a "volunteer" from last year's sunflowers.

We keep our sunflowers up on their dried stalks long after they've wilted so the birds can use them as natural birdfeeders and pick every last seed out of them. But no matter how ravenous those birds are, there's always a few seeds that fall to the ground and reseed for the next year.

This is the first of those to bloom in the Rosehaven Cottage gardens this year--yet another happy delight of summer.

Late Bloomers

It never fails to surprise me that although it's October, the sunflowers are always still in full swing. Truly late bloomers, these stalwarts help to bring wonderful color to my autumn garden. And they make the bees happy too!

The True Beauty of a Sunflower

Am I alone in finding beauty in a sunflower whose bloom has long since gone? Even as a small child I found the center of a sunflower completely fascinating with all the seeds so perfectly formed and lined up in neat concentric circles. The dry outer edges with their white "whiskers" always intrigued my childhood imagination as well.

Now that I'm older and maintain my own backyard wildlife habitat, there is an added beauty to the dried and spent sunflowers. In planning the Rosehaven Cottage gardens so they could be a certified habitat, I read a lot, and one of the things I remember reading was that if you're a neatnik and a control freak, a wildlife habitat is probably not going to be your cup of tea. Why? Because finely manicured gardens don't necessarily provide the food and shelter that little creatures need to be happy.

I discovered in the first couple of growing seasons, that spent sunflowers remaining in the garden long after the sunflower is "sunny" are a staple of the Rosehaven Cottage habitat. The tall dried stalks get stronger the drier they become, and eventually transform into natural birdfeeders during the lean winter months when the birds can't find insects to munch on because it's too cold for insects to be out and about in the garden.

Many birds winter-over in the Bay Area of Northern California where Rosehaven Cottage is located. These birds thrive on the yummy sunflower seeds that wait and ripen from summer's bloom until winter's birdy harvest. House finches, oak titmouses, scrub jays, woodpeckers, and many seasonal birds find the drooping dried heads and hang from them surgically extracting seeds with their beaks as the winter rains come down around them.

The giant varieties like the Kong sunflower are particularly fun. Their giant heads sit atop thick trunk-like stalks that are up to 14 feet tall. Each giant dish head can hold hundreds of seeds. The birds don't finally deplete the giant heads of their bounty until very late into the winter around February. And because our last frost is usually around the middle to the end of March, the insect population comes back early enough in the year that the seeds last through the lean months until another food source comes along. It is a fascinating and miraculous cycle that I have witnessed year after year, and yet it never ceases to bring me joy and wonder.

September Dawn

There are mornings like this morning that dawn is glorious and beautiful; something I want to capture in a bottle or jar as a child does a butterfly. But just as a butterfly is fragile and cannot be held in a bottle or jar, so is the feeling of the dawn on a September morn. So I capture it in photographs.

Reflections at Pond's Edge

Today has been a day of soul-searching, self-reflection, and pondering. Fortunately, I have gardens that are conducive to those activities.

The fish obliged me as I sat at the pond's edge and sprinkled food flakes into the water for them to eat. Dexter, on his leash, sprawled out behind my chair while Tom Tom wandered along his patrol paths sniffing the "message boards" of the felines in the neighborhood. The dragonflies are still out and about in our climate, so they came out and zipped back and forth in a canopy above me. I've managed to go completely bug bite free this summer thanks to those beloved dragonflies.

Sometimes, one just needs to take time and think. And that's exactly what I did.

There's A Special Light in the Air

There's a special light in the air that sends a thrill through my heart. It is the light that tells me the summer is ebbing to a close, casting its longer shadows throughout the garden. It is the light that brings to mind pumpkins, amber leaves, and chilly evenings.

A thrill rushes through me as I look at the sunflowers around my garden. They are the flowers of August to me; the flowers of the month that is the cusp between the celebrations and vacations of summer and the harvests and warm spicy aromas of autumn.

I try to glean something from each season as it is occurring, to live in the moment and wring from each one as much as I can. Yet I can't help but always yearn for autumn. It is a month full of colors that make me feel alive and smells that awaken childlike giddiness deep in my core.

As I sat out on our front porch this evening, I noticed that the light is beginning to change and the sense in the air is changing along with it. The temperature is not noticably different and will in fact get much hotter off and on for the next month or two, as Indian summers are more the norm than not in Northern California.

But there is a feeling in the air that says autumn is coming. It's in the way the breeze moves, in the way the grass is brittle and smells like the hayloft of a barn under my feet. With each step I took on my evening garden stroll, giddiness sparkled and shimmered deep within me. Autumn most definitely must be coming.