We have been hosting company for several days during the week now ending and the previous week.
I loaded these photos several days ago but didn't have opportunity to write.
There has been a little needed rain, cooler nights, misty mornings that slowly burn into days with temps in the low 80's F.
A few morning glories are still blooming in the field near the tobacco barn.
The vines are slowly turning brown, the small round seed pods are ripening.
Fall roses, when the scourge of the hateful Japanese beetles has passed, are the most welcome.
The two pale pink roses are Hawkeye Belle--the variegated bud is from the unknown rose which was languishing in a corner by the porch wall. Moved to the edge of the struggling perennial strip it has flourished.
I enjoyed this tiny windowsill bouquet for several days before a cat on the prowl knocked the little pitcher into the sink, breaking off the handle and chipping the spout.
In early May I bought 4 seedling nasturtiums. They vined, blossomed, wore themselves out.
I tucked some old seeds into the pot in mid-summer, and although I clipped most of the spent blooms, some seed pods ripened and fell into the soil.
I don't know which seeds have provided these fresh new plants.
I doubt they can reach flowering maturity before frost.
I may drag the planter inside in the hope of a few blooms.
Many of the wildflowers which brightened September have faded.
The tiny frost asters clambering along the fences and flourishing in ditches provide soft color.
I finally dead-headed and pruned the plants in the perennial strips which survived the long bout of heat and humidity.
It has been a disheartening year garden-wise.
Every clump of the grey-leaved achillea has apparently succumbed to the smothering damp.
Some dianthus have been lost and perhaps the Russian sage.
Phlox, belatedly cut back, has managed a few defiant blooms.
The lavender in the gravel-mulched area by the side porch steps has fared better than the plants tucked into the border.
I did some judicious pruning early in the week, cutting back to newer growth.
One plant, overly shaded by the sprawling rugosa is of questionable vitality, but I have left it to have its chance at revival.
Faithful Willis keeps me company in my gardening labors.
Here he inspects an untidy cockscomb laden with seeds for another year's crop.