Splashes of Colour

What a difference a month makes. A look back to my post of October 28 shows the garden still full of foliage and flowers. But the last couple of weeks has brought days of frost followed by strong winds and rain, leaving few signs of colour anywhere. The Enkianthus that I was admiring in the previous post has reacted by dropping most of its leaves, and those that remain have turned brown. At least the withering rosehips on climbing 'Lykkefund' are still red,

... and the last leaves on another rose, Rosa pimpinellifolia, still glow brightly.

 Leaves that have already fallen are making a pretty pattern at its base, but it won't be long before they are all bleached of colour.

However, there is one solitary star at this time of the year, flowering when nothing else does. The aptly named Mahonia 'Winter Sun' is gearing up for its shining performance at the very darkest time of the year.

Although still quite small it is starting to fill its corner. As it grows, I'll remove some of the lower leaves to show the cinnamon bark of the stems and thin the flower clusters so that they stand apart.

Splashes of Colour

What a difference a month makes. A look back to my post of October 28 shows the garden still full of foliage and flowers. But the last couple of weeks has brought days of frost followed by strong winds and rain, leaving few signs of colour anywhere. The Enkianthus that I was admiring in the previous post has reacted by dropping most of its leaves, and those that remain have turned brown. At least the withering rosehips on climbing 'Lykkefund' are still red,

... and the last leaves on another rose, Rosa pimpinellifolia, still glow brightly.

 Leaves that have already fallen are making a pretty pattern at its base, but it won't be long before they are all bleached of colour.

However, there is one solitary star at this time of the year, flowering when nothing else does. The aptly named Mahonia 'Winter Sun' is gearing up for its shining performance at the very darkest time of the year.

Although still quite small it is starting to fill its corner. As it grows, I'll remove some of the lower leaves to show the cinnamon bark of the stems and thin the flower clusters so that they stand apart.

November colours

Many of my perennials have collapsed and I've tidied them up for the winter, leaving bald patches of earth between the few plants still clinging to green foliage. Nevertheless, there are still some bright patches like Enkianthus perulatus, which is, with good reason, my favourite shrub at this time of the year. It just gets better and better as it grows to fill its allotted space.

Underneath it,  Begonia grandis leaves are now a mixture of lime and sulphur-yellow, providing a sharp contrast to its striking pink seedheads.

Richer colours have infused the purple leaves of a nearby Heuchera...























...and Corylopsis pauciflora is a golden beacon in its backyard corner.

Sharing the same bed at the back of the house, Clematis recta  has exchanged its star-like white flowers of summer for a froth of seedheads.

A closer look shows the electric-blue seeds in the middle of those wispy
white feathers. It is one of those plants that goes through an untidy
phase after flowering and the temptation is there to cut it back. I need
photos like these to remind me what a bad idea that is.

November colours

Many of my perennials have collapsed and I've tidied them up for the winter, leaving bald patches of earth between the few plants still clinging to green foliage. Nevertheless, there are still some bright patches like Enkianthus perulatus, which is, with good reason, my favourite shrub at this time of the year. It just gets better and better as it grows to fill its allotted space.

Underneath it,  Begonia grandis leaves are now a mixture of lime and sulphur-yellow, providing a sharp contrast to its striking pink seedheads.

Richer colours have infused the purple leaves of a nearby Heuchera...











...and Corylopsis pauciflora is a golden beacon in its backyard corner.

Sharing the same bed at the back of the house, Clematis recta  has exchanged its star-like white flowers of summer for a froth of seedheads.

A closer look shows the electric-blue seeds in the middle of those wispy white feathers. It is one of those plants that goes through an untidy phase after flowering and the temptation is there to cut it back. I need photos like these to remind me what a bad idea that is.

Fall Begins

Coming back from a 10-day visit to Chicago and St. Louis, we found fall-blooming perennials in full swing. The view towards the house was filled by lipstick-pink Penstemon 'Garnet, white-flowered, dark-leaved Eupatorium 'Chocolate' and blue Aconitum carmichaelii 'Arendsii'.

Looking in the opposite direction, Aster 'Anja's Choice' was a cloud of pink at the feet of the aconites, while in the background, the lavender hues of another aster, 'Little Carlow' complemented their intense blue.

On a sunny day, 'Little Carlow' was buzzing with bees.

Fall colour was also on show, particularly bright on the blueberry foliage...

...and more subtle in the shade of the old pear tree, where the foliage of Actaea 'Hillside Black Beauty' had switched from sepia to a medley of soft pink and gold.

Fall Begins

Coming back from a 10-day visit to Chicago and St. Louis, we found fall-blooming perennials in full swing. The view towards the house was filled by lipstick-pink Penstemon 'Garnet, white-flowered, dark-leaved Eupatorium 'Chocolate' and blue Aconitum carmichaelii 'Arendsii'.

Looking in the opposite direction, Aster 'Anja's Choice' was a cloud of pink at the feet of the aconites, while in the background, the lavender hues of another aster, 'Little Carlow' complemented their intense blue.

On a sunny day, 'Little Carlow' was buzzing with bees.

Fall colour was also on show, particularly bright on the blueberry foliage...

...and more subtle in the shade of the old pear tree, where the foliage of Actaea 'Hillside Black Beauty' had switched from sepia to a medley of soft pink and gold.

Mammoth Apple

My espaliered apples are producing fruit for the first time this year. There are not many, especially since I thinned each cluster to one or at most two apples, as instructed by Derry, my apple mentor. However, they are certainly making up in size for what they lack in quantity.

Macoun, a heritage variety introduced in 1923, has only four fruits, but they are BIG. The largest fell off a few days ago, presumably because the stem could not hold its weight any longer.

 It weighs in at 11 oz on my old kitchen scale.

I've read that the skin of this apple turns deep purple when it is ripe, so I'm wondering whether to sample it now or wait a little while in the hope it will ripen further off the tree.