A November Walk in the Garden
(Sony H9)

Even in November, there are still patches of beauty and interest. Here are a few shots from one crisp, sunny November afternoon.

A die-hard phlox peeks through a Coral Bark Japanese Maple.
There's a story that goes with these old-fashioned Daisy Mums. MANY years ago, I was hitting the local garage sales and saw these mums growing along a driveway. I remarked that I liked them, and the home owner yanked a handful out by the roots and said "Here, take some". I planted them, and had them all over the gardens for years.
I payed it forward, and gave them to every person who wanted some. They found their way into gardens in several states that way.
But they got out of hand. They grew like chickweed, and it eventually got through to me that the only way to control them.....was to pull them ALL out. So these shots are my memories....I sadly had to let them all go to allow more important flowers the room they needed.
As I walked through the yard, searching for subject matter, I spied this one bloom on my lilac Clematis.
Clematis 'Jackmani' was blooming too...and although the blooms were less than perfect, I liked the shadows the vine cast on the wall.
Some Novembers find all the Hosta melted into mush by the frost by this time, but occasionally the cold weather turns the leaves to autumn beauty instead.
Even the mundane Bunny Ears can become attractive with the right camera angle.
A new-comer to our '07 Fall garden....a Toad Lily. The flower is small, barely more than an inch across.
Along the driveway I found two tiny Dwarf Sweet William blooms, peeking out from under a dandelion.
The roses were still hanging in there too.
These Black-Eyed Susans...a.k.a. Yellow Coneflowers start blooming in late July, and don't give up completely until they freeze.
Our gardens are aptly named Redbud Hill because...we live on a hill...and because we have LOTS of Redbuds. This lonely seed pod is stubbornly hanging onto the mother of them all. My own mother gave me this tree...(the same one shown in bloom on other pages of our site)...in a small pot, about 18-20 years ago. It grew on our window sill all that winter, and was planted in our garden the following spring. As I write this, "she" is the biggest Redbud I've ever seen, but she loses large limbs every year. The life expectancy of a Redbud is about 15 years, and I cherish each year she hangs onto life. Our gardens will never be the same without her.
Each spring we pull out hundreds of baby Redbuds that sprout where they can't be allowed to grow, but it's worth it to have their 'mother' shading our front porch each summer.
And this leaf clings to the top twig of her 'daughter'...a seedling that I DIDN'T pull out, and refused to allow Richard to either. This one is being allowed to live, to take over when the time comes. Within hours after I took this shot, this last leaf fluttered to the ground.