Fall Colour

Day 355: I half-expected to see little pockets of frost in the yard when I stepped out onto the back porch and felt the chill in the morning, but if it was there, it eluded my eye. That said, a few things are starting to colour up and seed pods are bursting, ready to be harvested for next year's planting. Autumn is not the end, but rather the beginning of a new gardening season, the time when potential is paramount in the gardener's mind. It is a time of evaluation and planning, identifying what needs lifting, what needs moving, what might go here or there to give shade or to eliminate it. Autumn's advice must be heeded. What worked well? What did not? In pulling out the nasturtiums, I discovered that they had saved my other plants from attack by black aphids. A boon, perhaps? Or in a garden where they had only ever been a problem on marigolds, were they drawn to the nasturtiums, there to breed and lay eggs? Whatever the case, a lesson was learned under Autumn's tutelage. There will be no more nasturtiums for me!

A Glad, Good September Morn

Day 323: A Glad, Good September Morn to you, my friends! As many (but not all) of you know, this is my personal "holiday," second only to Christmas on my calendar. Traditionally, it is celebrated with a swim (or at least a dunk) in a chilly alpine tarn somewhere, but with this being Labor Day weekend, the celebration will have to be put on hold until it can be performed without the chance of being seen. Instead, I have chosen to bring you the beauty of my garden, just a small bouquet which includes no more than three stems of any given plant species. Believe me, the sacrifice was negligible! Included are two types of Coneflower (Rudbeckia), two Cosmos, Nasturtiums, Lavender, Delphinium, hardy Fuchsia, Snapdragons, Nigella, tall Phlox and a few California Poppies which were in a "wildflower" mix. May your coming year be as bright and festive as these flowers, and may you find joy in the Beautiful Month.

Nasty Bits

Day 303: Despite the fact that I grow flowers, I very seldom pick a bouquet. After all, they last much longer on the plant, and I can see them by simply looking out the window. There are exceptions to that rule, of course: the spring spate of Siberian irises along the back fence produces so prodigiously that a missing dozen is not even noticeable, daffodils likewise, or the occasional wind-fractured stem of delphinium. That said, I have always loved nasturtiums, and this year's crop has utterly blanketed one end of the flowerbed to a much greater degree than ever before. Their trailing stems spill out over the sidewalk, threatening to grab my ankles as I pass by to go to the mailbox, and occasionally have to be re-trained to go that way rather than this. It's a friendly dispute, their persistent enthusiasm brightening my every visit to the garden. View of many of the blossoms is blocked by other plants, overhung with hellebore or spicebush or shielded by delphinium foliage, so I thought I'd bring a few nasty bits indoors.

Nasturtium Square

Day 329: Despite being troubled by aphids, the nasturtiums in their hanging baskets provided a cheerful accent to the back porch this year. The leaves were rather pale and wan, but they've been covered with bright orange blossoms for weeks now. Orange? I distinctly recall planting mixed colors, hoping for a few dark mahogany flowers and seeds I could harvest for next year. Other than one yellow orphan, the "mix" was limited to two very similar shades of orange.

But what the heck, it's color, right? And looking through the sliding glass door today at grey skies, that orange was a welcome sight. That said, "mixed" seed packets which produce only one or two colors seem to be the general rule these days. If you want variety, the way to guarantee it is to buy several envelopes of single colors or mixes packaged by different growers, a plan I never seem to remember from year to year.

Gardener's Study

Day 312: Thunderstorms are not common in the Pacific Northwest like they are in so much of the rest of the country, and generally occur during the nighttime hours, although not exclusively so. I had been asleep for an hour or more when the first flash-and-crash woke me. Several more rollers tumbled through, following several seconds behind the broad brightness of lightning behind the clouds. Then came the torrent. Ten minutes of pattering, pounding rain broke against the shingles and filled the gutters. Half an hour later, the storm had passed, searching for new sleepers to awaken.

As welcome as the rain was, it took its toll. I found the tallest Rudbeckias' stalks broken six inches up from ground level, the flowers toppled over and dashed with muddy splatters. The Rain Gods had seen fit to leave the Delphiniums standing through June, so to complain would have been ungrateful. Instead, I interpreted their whims as a gift, and after rinsing the mud from the flowers under the garden hose, I brought them indoors. I don't usually cut my garden's color, though to round out the arrangement, I clipped a a few orange and yellow bits to go with the mahogany.

Incredible Edible Tropaeolum Majus

 
Day 293: Yes, that's right! You can eat almost any portion of a Nasturtium, and many people find them quite tasty! As children, many of us delighted in biting the tip off the spur on the back of the flower so that we could suck out the sweet nectar, but the whole blossom can be dipped in tempura batter and deep-fried for a tangy treat. Young leaves add a kick to salads, imparting a peppery zing among more boring greens. The seeds may be pickled and used as a recipe substitute for capers. To date, I've not heard of a use for the stems or roots, but this plant goes way beyond being an old-fashioned garden staple when it enters the kitchen.

Nasties!

Day 240: "Nasties" as in "Nasturtiums," that is...Tropaeoleum majus. Gardens are so much happier for having Nasties like these in them, and it never occurs to me to plant them until it's too late. This year, I neglected to order flower seeds from Park in January as I usually do, so on a trip to Watson's Nursery, I browsed the seed racks for something quick and easy. Marigolds were a no-brainer, although I know I'll be kicking myself next year when I have to weed them out from where they've reseeded, and a few bedding plants will fill in the hollow spaces in my haphazard flower bed. The Nasties are destined for hanging baskets to go outside the kitchen door.

Just recently, I was discussing with a colleague what to look for when trying to differentiate one type of native Violet from another, specifically the presence or absence of a spur on the back of the flower. "What do you mean by 'a spur?'" she asked. I said, "Like on a Nasturtium. Don't tell me you never bit off the spur on a Nasturtium so you could suck the nectar out!" I couldn't believe what she responded. "No," she said, "and I had to Google to see what a Nasturtium is." The next afternoon, I took her on a quick lunchtime field trip to look at Violets. At some point this summer, I hope to be able to drop some Nasties on her desk. Sucking nectar out of Nasturtiums is an experience kids of all ages can enjoy, even those who managed to reach adulthood without trying it.

All parts of a Nasturtium are edible. The nectar is a bonus! The peppery leaves and/or blossoms can be used in salads, the blossoms can be stuffed with any type of meat, and may be battered and deep-fried for a finger-food treat. The spicy seeds have been called "poor man's capers," and can be pickled just like the fruit of Capparis spinosus, then chopped and added to homemade tartar sauce. Nasties are anything but nasty!