The garden at the end of November

Can it really be the end of November? Where did the month go? For that matter, where has the year gone?

Tomorrow we head into December. Our average first frost date is December 10, so it is likely that many of the blooms in the garden today are on borrowed time. Already, we have had a few chilly nights, once dropping down to 35 degrees F., but the garden positively loves this weather. The fact that we've had a very wet couple of weeks has made the plants even happier.

As we get ready to welcome December, here are some of the blooms - and other things - that are still bringing color to the late fall garden.

I love violas and I tend to tuck them into every bare spot around the garden in late fall.

I like them in all colors.

Purple trailing lantana is at its best in the late fall and the butterflies are grateful.

The Cape honeysuckle is in full bloom, but I haven't seen any hummingbirds sipping from it lately.

Yellow cestrum blooms persist right up until the first frost.

Muscadine leaves and fruits are turning color. The fruits of these vines ripen in stages right through the fall, so there are always ripe grapes and green grapes present. Mockingbirds love them and watch for the purple fruits. They don't last long once the birds spy them.

Bronze esperanza is still blooming, but my yellow variety hasn't done too well this year. Unfortunately, one of my garden helpers pruned it at just the wrong time.

Yellow milkweed is still going strong.

This sprawling plant is Copper Canyon daisy. It will be knocked back by the first frost but for now it is in glorious bloom.

Pansies are another of my favorites for winter color and, like the violas, I tuck them into various spots around the yard.

African blue basil is still full of blooms and most days it is full of bees, as well.

The Mandarin oranges are ready to be picked.

Yum!

There are Meyers lemons on this tree in all stages of development. These are just beginning to turn color.

Nearby on the same tree are buds just about to burst into bloom and begin another crop of lemons.

Crossvine blooms gloriously in the spring, but it continues to put out a few blooms throughout the year.

The little yellow marigolds just don't know when to quit.

Nearby in the herb bed, the pineapple sage is in full bloom.

And so is the shrimp plant.

'Molineux' rose is putting on some late blooms.

Red kalanchoe blooming on the patio table.

Almond verbena. Its lovely scent lends its fragrance to the backyard garden.

The 'Graham Thomas' rose is happiest in the fall. Half of this blossom's petals got knocked to the ground in the weekend's rains, but the three fat buds promise more soon.

It's a joyful time in the garden. Not much for the gardener to do and the plants are very happy. Jack Frost will put an end to it but that's tomorrow's concern. I'm happy just to enjoy today.

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

The Nature of Things

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