Edging Toward Fall

The garden’s been a bit off this summer. Some of my tomatoes, on different plants in different beds, did whatever that is in the photo on the left. Tasty enough, but weird; also a smaller crop than usual. Weather? Critters? Meanwhile a resourceful bunny managed to break in through the chicken wire. In the time it took me to find the break and block it up, she nipped all the flowers off the squash plants and munched up many squash leaves. They have recovered, but there will be no bounty in the freezer this year.

It was, however, a good year for crabapples, which are much appreciated by the deer. Also by me, as the deer spend most of their time snarfing up the crabapples and leave my flowers alone. There are three new fawns this summer, and one of last year’s little guys is now sporting two single-spike, prongless antlers, which means Mama Doe really doesn’t want him around. If deer wonder anything, he must wonder why she keeps chasing him away from where the rest of them are feeding (“Mom! It’s me!”). At first he tried just keeping out of her reach as she nosed through the fallen fruit, but lately he’s started coming earlier in the afternoon, before the others get there. Life as a young buck isn’t easy.

The phlox in the backyard are thriving this year. I planted garlic chives around them on the advice that this would keep deer away, but the deer would wade right through it as soon as they saw the flowerbuds, and chowed down on them. This year I have a lot of milkweed coming up among the chives, in front of the phlox. Whether deer won’t cross the milkweed or whether they’re too distracted by the siren call of the crabapples, the phlox is flourishing, unmolested. 

The plumbago in the front yard is flourishing too. Plumbago is such a useful workhorse of a groundcover. Neither the deer nor the rabbits eat it. It holds back in early spring when the daffodils are in glory, leaping out just when it’s time to cover the daffs’ long, drooping, yellowing leaves; in full summer it bursts into blue flowers; and come fall the leaves turn bright red. This is a plant that really leans into the seasons. It spreads, but slowly, and I’d like to expand its share of the yard. Despite its excellence plumbago can be hard to find in nurseries, so I’ve ordered a few more from my catalogs.

While I was searching nurseries for plumbago, I found this pot of black pansies. Pansies can handle a fair bit of frost, so there’s a good chance they will last till Halloween. They will look nice and witchy sitting on the front steps with some pumpkins. That tomato I started out with also looked a bit witchy, but part of its witchcraft was turning into two BLT sandwiches yesterday. It did an excellent job.

Rabbit Life

A few days ago I strolled out to the garden, intending a peaceful time staking up tomato plants. Instead: outrage! I opened the gate and a rabbit zoomed out of my gladiolus and streaked across the garden! She wasn’t very big, but she was insidethe garden. This could only mean a new hole in the chicken wire. Outraged, yes, but I watched carefully to see where she went, hoping she would lead me to the hole. She vanished into the clump of daylilies against the fence, put there for some reason by previous garden owners. I could see they would make good cover for a bunny, and behind them I could see a long, low break in the chicken wire.

I picked up the hoe that lives in the garden and poked and stomped around the daylilies, listening for bunny rustles. Satisfied that she wasn’t in there any more, I pushed some bricks against the hole to block it, went inside for a spool of wire and some cutters; wired the gap shut from the outside, and finally staked up my tomato plants. 

I had planted gladiolus in the garden because otherwise the deer ate them, and I wanted them for flower arrangements. The rabbit’s technique seemed to be to pull them over sideways, and nibble away. It was very interesting to note that, while decimating the gladiolus, she had totally ignored the ox-eye daisies. They’re volunteers, and plant them selves both inside and outside the garden. Nothing, not the deer, not the rabbits, not even the woodchuck eats them. And as a bonus they’re wonderfully long-lasting in flower arrangements. Maybe I should give up on the gladiolus and let these little daisies take over.

The next day I strolled out to the garden again and yikes! The rabbit was still in there – and now I had closed up her escape hatch. I called in reinforcements. Doug. With a hoe each we propped the garden gate open and herded the rabbit, like a pair of Mr. Mc Gregors, except we were laughing more than we were angry. What a comical sight we must have made, hoes flailing, me squeezing in between the now tall and ferny asparagus, Doug blocking her way to safety like the angel with the flaming sword at the gates of Eden. The rabbit ate of the wrong fruit, and we expelled her from the garden. This is my point of view. Hers, I suppose, would be that the whole yard is her territory, and we’re the interlopers.