Thursday, October 31, 2013
As I write, there is snain coming down, kind of a sloppy mix of snow and rain, too big to be rain and too wet to be snow. Snain. Chet Baker talks about sneet but I've never seen it. It's 40, going for the mid-30's tonight, and I really don't like it much. What I like is autumn. And summer.
So what I do is dig summer up and cram it into my little greenhouse. It's the hardest working 64 square feet in Ohio.
The red center support pole is new. The greenhouse had a sag in its spine. The floorjack fixed it. Tools told me what to get. This is the east corner.
I absolutely adore Salvia greggii "Desert Blaze." It has such an airy, icy look about it with those white-edged leaves. I know it would die over the winter, being a tender plant to start with. Add variegation and you have a really tender plant. Can't let that happen. Dug two up, brought them in.
I tried something this fall that I've never done. I brought my tuberoses inside. The only reason I did it is that there were about 10 plants just starting to bloom in late October! I think it was the cool, rainy summer we had. I planted them in April, but the plants just kind of lolled around in the wet soil, enjoying making more and more leaves, and they remembered why I planted them a bit too late to make good on their promise to get it done before frost.
It was really too cold at night for them to put out much in the way of fragrance. What a waste! So I dug them up. Plopped them in planters and put them in the cart and brought them in.
Now that was a fine sight, tuberoses going to their reward...another month of summer!
The heat of the greenhouse brings out the most exquisite fragrance, and it absolutely fills the little room with heaven when night falls.
They're delighted to keep growing and blooming. I'll have a month more of fragrance and beauty.
Some are still in spike! My darling you will never know 20 degrees.
Joining the tuberoses is my night-blooming jessamine, Cestrum nocturnum. Another jewel of the Solanaceae, or nightshade family. What a family. Potatoes, tomatoes, eggplant, tomatillos, Cestrum, to name just a few.
The New Guinea impatiens is so happy to come in out of the cold and unfurl its blazing perfect orange blossoms in welcome heat.
As is the mammilaria cactus, which has bloomed for me for 22 years.
And you have to love a mandevilla that's such a bright red it boggles the camera.
Color. Blazes and bushels of color. That's how we fight old man Winter here on Indigo Hill.