Wild is the late season. Plants roam, taller and freer in their September fling.
Slender Japanese anemones lean over the stone wall. They dance down the hillside, mix with troupes of Russian sage and roses. Cimicifuga and ligularia shoot up wands of white and yellow. Feathery plumes of miscanthus sweep across the windows. Pennisetum tufts sprout amid perennials.
Eight-foot dahlias, with globular heads of salmon, cream, and blush, fill the cutting garden. Beside them cleome bursts, lean spidery sisters.
Honey-scented autumn clematis sprawls over the pergola. Bees dart in to drink, as they do on ‘Autumn Joy’ sedum.
Bell-shaped blooms nod above kirengeshoma leaves. Across the path a slope of perennial begonias spills dangling pink beads. A peephole through the trees shows unexpected panicle hydrangeas; they look as fresh as their June oakleaf counterparts.
One by one, dried maple leaves fall, intimating summer’s end.
— Kathy Hudson