Tag Archives: autumn

Feeling September-ish

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I’m basking in that late summer – early autumnal glow here in Europe, it’s harvesting time both in gardens and farms. The crops are at peak and crates have been positioned ready to receive their bounty. Vegetable gardens and orchards are burgeoning and hold all the promise of family meals and healthy living. The horridly hot summer of 2018 is hopefully making a timely exit. I return home in a day and will do my very best to bring along some more seasonal weather. No promises!

After a glorious three weeks of R&R, I’m looking forward to getting back to home and garden. There’s plenty awaiting my attention and I know that all too soon my vacation will seem as though it happened a long time ago. At that point, I’ll just have to start dreaming of my next trip. For now, I’m ready and raring to get started on fall planting, seed collecting and clean-up. With any luck the squirrels will have spared us some apples and pears to enjoy and just maybe the birds haven’t completely polished off all of the concord grapes. Oh the perils of going away in summer.

Note: Hope you’ve reserved your spot for the symposium on September 29. I’m so excited about it – it’ll be fun, informative and a great opportunity to meet new and old garden-minded friends.

Enjoy these September images from France and the Netherlands:

Fennel

Grape harvester.

(c) 2018 Shobha Vanchiswar

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Dead Heat

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It’s been an unusual warm summer globally. Here in the Netherlands, I’m witness to the impact of the record heat that lasted several weeks. Being unused to such extreme weather, the average Dutch gardener didn’t quite know what to make of the high temperatures and the accompanying lack of rain. Typically it rains so consistently that one is not accustomed to watering the garden regularly. By the time many of them realized the stress the plants were under, it was already too late to save some of them. Due to regulations, farmers were not permitted to pump water from the underground aquifers. Consequently, it has led to some serious loss of crops. It goes without saying that this single summer will have a lingering effect on the environment, the economy and the general sense of well-being amongst the populace.

Where at this time, there’s usually a glut of summer blooms at their glorious peak, I see instead many gardens prematurely displaying an autumnal look with dry foliage, faded flowers and assorted seed-heads pushing for immortality. Too soon, too early! It is easy to discern the gardens that were watered during the days of heat – they are the ones looking entirely unscathed. But, there is one other category of plantings that have come through the heat admirably – the drought tolerant ones. Water being a limited resource cannot be used with abandon. Simply turning on the hose and/or sprinklers every time we are hit with a drought is not the solution. A more realistic, sustainable approach must be identified and implemented.

At present, the normal weather pattern has returned with rain and seasonal temperatures and I’m pleased to see that in several cases, the plants are valiantly attempting a full comeback. Yet, there is ample evidence of the toll taken by those hot, dry days. Damaged and dead plants remain as somber reminders that it takes just a short shift in the weather to have a long effect on the earth. Climate change is evident. What on earth are we going to do about it?

Note: Don’t forget! September 29 approaches!

Drought tolerant grass looking radiant.

New plantings to replace the ones lost to the drought.

Awaiting replacements …

Well watered

(c) 2018 Shobha Vanchiswar

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Feeling The Sizzle

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It’s seems the summer this year is just heat wave after heat wave. Could this be the new normal? I’m ready to pack it in. The combination of high heat and humidity is my kryptonite. In my opinion, air-conditioning/refrigeration is the greatest invention of the twentieth century. Without it, this weather would have me in the throes of relentless migraines, intense fatigue and a general state of grumpiness.

Needless to say, I’m not putting much time in the garden. I’m just barely on top of the watering and weeding. That makes me sad but c’est la vie. I’ve become an armchair gardener instead. Making plans and drooling over the most gorgeous photos in garden periodicals is pretty much it.

Enjoy these random photos of what’s doing in the garden. Full disclosure – all the tired, beat up looking parts of the garden have not been presented! Keep cool everybody; this too shall pass.

(c) 2018 Shobha Vanchiswar

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Pursuing Piet

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Piet Oudolf. When you see that name, what comes to mind? Chances are you think of the High-Line, NYC or Lurie Gardens in Chicago. Am I right? Those gardens placed him right into the American consciousness but Piet is SO much more than that. I know because I discovered him about twenty years ago. That’s long before most of you had heard of him, yes?

I first came across the classic Oudolf mark of naturalistic plantings that were all about movement and atmosphere in a garden magazine from the UK. Something about that article got me in a way I couldn’t quite explain. All I recognized was my own discovery that this style spoke directly to my gardening soul. So I researched the man. It wasn’t easy – Google was not as yet so amazing ( it was in its infancy ). And Piet was mostly working in the Netherlands and in the UK. But, persistence ( okay, my obsession ) pays off and I got to learn more about the designer. Then, in 2008, on a trip to the Netherlands, I decided I simply had to meet Piet and see his own garden in Hummelo. And I did. A high point in my gardening life.

Piet and his wife Anja were warm and friendly. Their garden and nursery more than lived up to my expectations. Much of what we have come to see as typical Oudolf plant choices are not only American natives but they are also hardworking and quite affordable. Piet’s genius is in how he uses them – the combinations and placements play up the best features of the plants. At that time, I was myself beginning to move towards mostly native plantings so, seeing how absolutely gorgeous this garden looked cemented my decision to go native. I’m not a purist about it. Non-natives are welcome as long as they are not invasive and are present in much smaller numbers as compared to the indigenous ones. That precious and delicate balance of native flora and fauna is critical to the health of the environment.

At that meeting, Piet mentioned that he was just starting on a new new project in Manhattan. Who knew this would prove to be the High-Line!

Piet Oudolf’s reputation has deservedly grown exponentially and he is perhaps the most influential garden designer in 25 years. His projects in public spaces all over the United States and Europe are now landmarks. Even his drawings of garden designs are works of art – so much so that a couple of years ago, a Hauser and Wirth exhibit in England, showcased some of them. If you are not as yet familiar with this exceptional garden designer, please make it a point of visiting the gardens created by him. They are inspiring and instructive and look good through all the seasons. So, it’s informative to visit several times through the year.

Speaking of seasons, there is a documentary film on Piet Oudolf “Five Seasons – The Gardens Of Piet Oudolf”. I saw it this past Sunday and enjoyed it immensely. You will have to search out a theater that is showing it. I had to go to a screening two hours away! It was worth it. For this devout gardener, it was akin to a pilgrimage to get a glimpse of one of the gods of the gardening world. I am now recharged, resolved and ready to implement more Oudolf ideas into my garden.

Note: I’m sharing some photos of my 2008 visit to Hummelo:

With Anja

(c) 2018 Shobha Vanchiswar

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Finally Fall

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Whew! The garden is finally put to bed. An unusual season of warm, dry days pushed back the fall’s must-dos till I was almost getting into a panic. Not only were we denied of a proper showing of the autumnal foliage that typically takes ones breath away, the garden itself remained green and happy that I couldn’t quite bring myself to cut back or pull out at the normal time. However, as October gave way to November and the days remained unseasonably mild, even as I took pleasure in the slow pace, I grew uneasy. A sudden, protracted cold spell would make it difficult to get all the work done or worse, make some of the tasks impossible to complete.

On the surface, delays of a couple of weeks or so don’t seem so bad. But in the grand scheme of things, it can make a big difference. Prolonged warm weather can fool plants to use up their energy by putting out new growth only to have that killed when the inevitable cold weather does arrive. Shorter winters will in turn affect growth and blooms in springs. Migrating birds might decide to linger during the extended warm weather and then find it is too late to make their long journey south – many will perish trying. There are numerous consequences to seemingly minor fluctuations in weather.

The vertical garden has been the highlight throughout. It has looked breathtakingly lush giving one a false sense of its hardiness. I’ve decided that this year, all the plants will be left in place and I’m contemplating installing a ‘flap’ of bubble-wrap to give some protection/insulation from the cold whilst still letting some air circulate so as not to cook the plants should the temperature spike suddenly or on those warm days of a January thaw.

The ‘Heritage’ rose is currently in bloom and the wisterias are only just beginning to turn yellow. A quick pruning will take place this coming weekend. We’re still picking kale and Swiss chard from the potager. Likewise, pots of herbs are seasoning our meals. I could get used to this! Some of those herbs just barely got into the greenhouse ahead of the cold weather last Friday.

The major number of plants in the greenhouse had been installed a few weeks but the door was kept open till recently. The propane heater was started only a couple of days ago.

As I’d already reported, the front lawn was de-thatched and reseeded in early October. The mild weather got the new grass growing rapidly and now it has the appearance of almost being in need of a mowing. Go figure.

The annual meadow cut-back typically happens by mid to late October. This year, it took place last week.

Outdoor furniture has finally been put away and the water hoses emptied and brought indoors. Only the winter wrapping of the large pots and setting up wind barriers for the roses remain.

The bulbs for fall planting arrived in mid-October at what is their normal time of planting. but the soil was simply too warm for them. The shipment sat patiently while I grew more anxious about running out of time to get the hundreds of bulbs into the ground. Bulb planting cannot be hurried. Making sure each variety is planted at the right depth ( three times the vertical height of the bulb) and not disturbing bulbs from previous years is a challenge. The back and legs have much to complain about after planting. It’s that singular vision of the spring garden looking spectacular with bulbs in bloom that keeps me going. The task gets harder with each passing year but I cannot imagine not having these bulbs, corms and rhizomes enriching the garden annually.

This past weekend, in bitter cold, the bulbs got planted. Hallelujah.

As anticipated, we went from the luxury of those extended days of balmy weather when only a few seasonal chores could be performed, to a frenzied state of getting everything else done in suddenly frigid temperatures. Not fun at all. But, they got done. Whew again.

In the greenhouse

The meadow showed no signs of autumn. Most plants simply died back and the rest stayed green. The cut-back was not the big deal that it usually is.

David Austen’s Heritage rose.

!!!

(c) 2017 Shobha Vanchiswar

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Changing Forecast, Forecasting Change

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“ It never hurts to keep looking for sunshine” – Eeyore ( Winnie-the-Pooh by A.A. Milne)

There are signs of this season of senescence everywhere and yet, in this final stretch of October, it seems as though a great number of trees are stubbornly holding on to their still-green leaves. Usually by this time, the fall foliage has peaked setting the world aglow like a virtual bonfire. I notice that the squirrels do not seem as madcap busy as they typically are at this time of year. Even the weather has been more like summer. It feels quite odd to be taking care of tasks that put the garden to bed when the days seem as though autumn is still weeks away.

Because the meadow is still quite green, I’ve delayed it’s annual mow-down by three weeks. However, elsewhere I have cut back my perennials leaving only some ornamental grasses as they look so ethereal in the afternoon sun. The greenhouse is filled up with the tender plants as one never knows when that first major frost will arrive, the espalier fruit trees have been pruned so a snowstorm won’t harm the limbs, and pots are cleaned and put away so a freeze-thaw cannot break them. Contrarily, I’m keeping the terrace on the ready for al fresco meals as long as the weather will permit.

The hundreds of bulbs I ordered in July have arrived. But the ground is way too warm for planting. I’m hoping I’ll get the all-clear from the weather gods and can begin this task in a couple of weeks.

In the front lawn, the newly seeded grass has come up nicely. If the mild days continue, it’ll need a mowing!

It’s not like I’m complaining because doing chores in the garden is infinitely better when sweaters and gloves are not required. Still, I’m a little concerned. Whilst reveling in the surprisingly gorgeous weather, we are in dire need of rain. What price will we pay for these beautiful days? How will this change in climate affect the flora and fauna? From budding to flowering, to putting out fruit and seeds, the plants must adapt. Likewise, for the animals, migratory patterns, hibernating periods, mating and reproductive times will need adjusting. All the flora and fauna must coordinate these changes in-order to serve each other as they always have. Their survival depends on it. Our own species depends on it. Perhaps the short term effects will be minimal but the long term impact can be big. I have the distinct impression that we ought to be buckling up. There’s a bumpy ride ahead.

Normally, the wisteria is a bright yellow in counterpoint to the rosy hues of the red male.

Trees have either dropped their leaves in a hurry or are reluctant to turn color.

The new lawn looks spring ready!

I love how the espalier turns sculptural. Just in time for winter visual interest.

The last roses are still looking beautiful

Grasses add such interest in the garden.

(c) 2017 Shobha Vanchiswar

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The Gift Of The Ordinary

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It’s been hard to get away from the news these days. Everywhere one looks there is something gone awry. Disorder, discord and destruction is seemingly the new normal. Tempers are running high while spirits are low. Between Mother Nature’s might and all the political unrest, our world feels unsettled and out of alignment. It’s an extraordinarily heartbreaking time at present. It’s overwhelming and one wonders what the point of it all might be. While I reach out to those struggling to recover from natural disasters and man-made horrors, my heart reminds me to seek solace in the gift of the ordinary.

We take ordinary for granted. In fact, we often complain about it right? Seeking excitement and the extraordinarily, we whine about the same old-same old, the mundane, the quotidian. But it’s precisely those humdrum, routine tasks that give us certain assurance. They tell us that all is as it should be. Things are normal. There is wondrous peace in that.

This past week, in trying to process all the goings on and looking for how I can be of most service, I’ve found such comfort in doing the unremarkable chores in the garden. Whilst weeding, I’ve observed the earthworms tilling the earth and the bees making their rounds. The seed pods rattling in the breeze that brings a fresh shower of leaves in colors of the sun. I’ve taken note of the slender green needles of emerging grass from the recently seeded front lawn. In tucking away the pots of tender plants into the greenhouse, I’m reassured that they will be warm and safe through the cold months. Picking Swiss chard for supper, I’m struck by how much I enjoy this vegetable and how it keeps giving well into early December. Washing out the large pots now emptied of their seasonal contents, I watch the birds raid the meadow for seeds and bugs. The low slant of the afternoon light sets aglow the asters as though reminding the butterflies and bees there remains only a few more hours before visiting hours are over. Meanwhile, in another corner, the light turns the swaying heads of ornamental grasses into feathers of polychromatic optic fibers. Cutting back the plants will have to wait another week or two – this senescence is so beautiful .

These familiar chores put my heart at ease and for one all too brief period, my fear, anxiety, anger, sorrow and frustration are forgotten. Ordinary is good.

I wrote the poem below three years ago. It expresses the same sentiments.

The Gift Of The Ordinary

The early demand

to make room

for still warm toes

and sleep tousled hair

against my languid self.

 

Sandwiched between

husband and child

Wide awake

much too hot

wouldn’t change a thing.

 

Quick kisses, rushed goodbyes

Sudden quiet amidst the dishes

Hours open

creative freedom

the comfort of home.

 

Laundry rituals, weekly menus

Deadlines, submissions

instep with

family time, date night

snatched moments of solitude.

 

Belonging, beloved

sleep deprived on a good day

Supported, cheered

trailing behind on paperwork

The gift of the ordinary.

                                             –Shobha Vanchiswar

Note: I hope you will visit one or all of the art shows I’m in this month!

Rainbow chard

Moving into the greenhouse in progress

(c) 2017 Shobha Vanchiswar

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Autumnal Acts

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Despite my reluctance to come out of summer-vacation mode, it’s been impossible to ignore the spectacular weather these past few days. Perfect fall days of cool nights, crisp mornings melting into sun-warmed days. Reveling in the glorious colors of the season, I’ve been inspired to take on the garden tasks – it’s so much easier to work in an atmosphere of such beauty and delight.

The big tasks addressed this past Sunday were the front lawn and the cleaning of the greenhouse. In the case of the lawn, it took a bit longer as wild strawberry had taken up residence and ousted the grass, clover and any other sweet greens that make up my ‘lawn’. It’d only be a matter of time before the runners of this thug made inroads into the perennial beds. So instead of the usual raking to de-thatch the grass and simply remove the matted debris, more effort was applied to completely eliminate the intruder. This was followed by reseeding with grass and finally applying a thick layer of compost over the entire area. All that’s left to do now is to water daily until the seeds sprout and the new grass establishes. Some gentle rain showers would be of great help.

Mind you, in the spring, a similar servicing of the lawn is required but it will not have to be anywhere so drastic. It actually makes a big difference to deal with the lawn in the fall.

The greenhouse cleaning is de rigeur as one wants to provide a hygienic environment for the plants. So the slate floor was vacuumed and glass panels washed thoroughly. Keeping the glass clean also means more light comes through to the plants. Once the glass is dry, we line the interior side with bubble-wrap which serves as insulation whilst still letting in sunlight. This last task is not as fun but very necessary unless one wants to squander money on whatever energy is used to heat the greenhouse in winter.

Every plant moved into the greenhouse is trimmed, washed with a smart spray of water which displaces any pest or detritus clinging on either it or the pot, freed of all weeds that might be trying to sneak in and only then is it ready for its winter residence.

Understandably, preparing the pots takes time so thus far, only the big bay standards, citruses like kumquat and Meyer lemon, gardenia, olive and scented geraniums have been placed inside. By and by the other tender perennials will follow. Presently, some of those including two small standards of rose are looking rather fetching and I’d like to enjoy them in the garden a little bit longer. I’m hoping for a few more al fresco meals before it gets too cold.

For pure fun lest I start feeling sorry for myself for working so hard, I put up the fall window-boxes with a mix of ornamental cabbages, kale and pansies. And, I got myself a lovely collection of pumpkins and gourds to display by the front door.

That’s right, I’ve jumped into fall. Goodbye summer.

Note: Art shows I’m in this month –

‘Figures’ at the Mount Kisco Public Library, 100 Main Street, Mount Kisco, NY. October 6 – 31.

‘Methods And Melody’ at the Chappaqua Performing Arts Center, 480, N. Bedford Road, Chappaqua, NY. October 14 – Nov 21

Beaux Arts Show of the Woman’s Club of Dobbs Ferry, 54, Clinton Avenue, Dobbs Ferry, NY. October 13 – 15.

Beaux Arts Show of the Woman’s Club of White Plains, 305, Ridgeway, White Plains, NY. October 16 – 20.

I plant young plants in the pots and window boxes so they have room to grow. In a couple of weeks, they’ll fill out nicely.

Newly seeded lawn.

(c) 2017 Shobha Vanchiswar

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Turncoat!

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Turncoat!

My eyes open and there you are

on the other side of the window

shining gold in the sunlight

enticing your tribe to do the same

Turncoat!

Yellow ocher, russet, sienna, plum

you’ve painted yourself anew

discarding all the serenity of greens

olive, sap, chartreuse, moss

Turncoat!

Outdoing summer’s brights

you’ve set the world aflame

no word you’re abandoning ship

you simply switched loyalty

Turncoat!

I’m loathe to see the change

yet, I’m awed by your brilliance

I feel cheated, betrayed

Though I’ve always known what you are

Turncoat!

– Shobha Vanchiswar

I’m happily back from my travels and slowly adjusting to ‘business as usual’. The garden is a riot of color and disarray. As it should be since I’ve been away all of six long weeks. The apples were harvested from the espalier fence yesterday. A very fall-like activity and yet, the weather feels like high summer. Having missed a chunk of the warm season here, I’m really not ready for autumn. It’s oddly disorienting actually. I’m sensing a bit of resentment within when I notice the trees turning color and fallen leaves carpeting the ground.

I’m not quite prepared to tackle that long list of October chores. Harvest fruit, collect seeds, cut back, rake leaves, plant new additions, annual mowing of meadow, reseed front ‘lawn’, clean up, put away, move tender perennials in pots into the greenhouse, clean greenhouse first and then, when the ground is cool enough, plant the hundreds of bulbs which will be arriving imminently. Clearly, no rest for the wicked.

Indeed, I adore fall. After spring it is my favorite season. But that does not mean I cannot be irrational about missing so much of summer despite the fact I had a perfectly great time elsewhere. Go figure. I simply want my cake and eat it too.

Note: Heads Up! In October, I will be participating in four art shows in the Westchester area. Details will be posted next week. I do hope you will make time to visit the shows. Your support and feedback is invaluable.

The vertical still looks lovely

Grossly neglected perennial beds. Yet, their wildness has a certain appeal.

Apples on the espalier

Turtleheads still in bloom in the meadow

 

(c) 2017 Shobha Vanchiswar

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Postcards From Provence

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It is still summer here in Provence and yet, I can sense the turning of the season. Each morning, the tinge of cool in the air lasts a bit longer. At the markets, the apples and pears have joined the peaches the melons. Pumpkins let to cure in the sun rest scattered across fields themselves glowing like miniature lanterns. The grapes hang full and heavy ready for harvest. Mushrooms marking the start of autumn emerge on menus. Like soldiers stand rows of fading sunflowers holding seeds ripe for pressing.

Despite these signs, I’m basking in long, light flooded days, plunging my teeth into plums bursting with juice, painting landscapes still lush and verdant, swimming in water that refreshes and soothes my sun-warmed skin, preparing meals of summer fruit like vine-ripened tomatoes, tender courgettes and glistening aubergines. Dessert is nothing more complicated than fresh goat cheese on plump figs from the garden drizzled with the local lavender honey. Yes, the days like the meals, are simple, slow and light. Like summer.

Figs for the picking

(c) 2017 Shobha Vanchiswar

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