It’s time to tidy up my garden. I always have a hard time with this chore; it’s an emotional task to say goodbye to all the plants I’ve tended to, that have also tended to me over the growing season. This year is especially hard to see my garden go as it was where Kellen and I exchanged our marriage vows. It was a perfect mid-September day, with zinnias, cosmos, and my hyacinth bean vine blooming on the wrought iron trellis around us.
My garden wasn’t “all that” this year, I had to reign myself in after a May freeze took most of my seedling starts and too many other important tasks (wedding preparations!!) took priority over my ever-expanding garden plans. This year, I focused primarily on “easy” cutting garden flowers and herbs. Most years I splurge on many vegetable plants that either get culled because they’re boring (it’s a thing) and I want to give space to something else or they lack vigor.
Another issue I have is over-abundance. I’m still off-grid with limited storage and cooking options so a large harvest of tomatoes or beans proves more overwhelming than beneficial at this juncture of life. So this year the only vegetables I grew were two varieties of heirloom tomatoes gifted to me by Kellen’s tomato aficionado uncle, Doug. Fresh tomatoes are a must, and these were both indeterminate types proving to be delightful coming one to two at a time over a period of a few months.
But if I’m honest, we gardeners never plant the total amount of seeds splurged on during winter dreaming that bolster us through the off-season. There are always big expansion plans, removals and additions, divisions and rearrangements that end up whittled down by the ever practical ticking clock. Despite all this, each year I’m always amazed at what certain things performed above my expectations and I try to document my yearly favorites as a way to end with a smile during an otherwise melancholy time.
These over-achievers are usually not the plants I fawned over and gave extra care to; oh no- those usually wither in comparison, seeming to shrink in performance the more I hoped they’d shine. So let’s look at the shining stars of my 2023 garden. If I had to pick my top favorite of this year it would be the Apollo Orange Asclepias! I started these tropical milkweed plants from seeds I bought from Johnny’s Select Seeds the year prior and just never got around to sowing. I started about twenty seeds along with a host of other cutting garden selections, as they weren’t necessarily for cutting, but had bold color and were pollinator magnets; two qualities I sought to expand on this year.
They were slow to sprout, and really didn’t look like much compared to the vigorous sprouts of celosia, galanthus, and other delights I was so excited to grow for my bouquets.
I set all my starts out in early May, as I couldn’t keep the greenhouse going inside any longer. And then- you guessed it- a FREEZE warning. Not just a frost- temperatures were predicted to be in the low twenties, which causes far more damage than a frost- which can happen in the 30’s and be protected against with a covering. I had no power to my greenhouse as it was out by the road in my garden at this point, but I still rushed out that evening to cover everything with cardboard and newspaper in hopes to insulate them to some degree from the cold.
Long story (and believe me, I can make this looong) short, the only seedlings to survive were my Asclepias, and barely at that. I nearly tossed them as well, but I gave everything a chance to come back, tucking them in my garden to either thrive or return to the dirt. Mid-summer, these lovely flowers shot up from their hiding places between my zinnias and bloomed a fantastic orange-red that kept going until- well today is November first and they’re still in decent shape! These beauties have earned a permanent place in my garden and I’ve collected a good many seeds from them for myself and to share.
Other honorable mentions this year include Calendula, Nasturtium, Borage, Feverfew, Violas- specifically the ones known as Johnny-Jump-Ups; all of which I started from seed. Under-performers, due mostly to the lack of heat units (I snagged that phrase from my corn farmer husband) and pervasive wet, were my cosmos, zinnias, and statice. All three gave a decent number of blooms, but they’re the type be bursting from the garden in the hot months.
I’ve closed the garden up gradually this fall, mostly to give time for my dirt-loving daughter to tromp through as I slowly gather seeds. Gertie is also allowed to tromp through at this point, nibbling at will as I decide to let the plants go. Closing the garden may start as a melancholy task, but the joys of seed gathering, spending time with my daughter and my favorite goat, spreading compost, and reminiscing about the season’s performance make it a positive exercise in the end.
