Today at long last it is finally wet, drippy dreary and a bit chilly. This, a mere two days after I was debating whether to wear sandals to the family Thanksgiving gatherings. My poor dear hydrangea have been bewitched into a false spring and have sprouted new growth at the base. I only hope the seasonal confusion of 90 degree days in November has not made them overly vulnerable for the cold I hope may finally have arrived.
I have always eschewed the bold colors of orange and yellow in my garden, loving as I do the exquisite near-ultraviolet of lobelia, and sages in ranges of sky-blue to the color purple. I have to have intense reds and magentas, too, but no orange. Ever. Until this summer. I was besotted with these African daisies and brought them home. They continue to bloom, and I expect volunteers to come up next spring after the winter has finished off this lot. Finally crossing over to the orange side, perhaps predictably, I bought scads of obscenely orange blossoming things to complement my ultraviolets. After many years of abstinence, I am an now a full-fledged orange-addict. There are peachy-orange wallflowers(wonderful frangrance!) and similar pansies and violas, and the most remarkable turnaround for me has been the marigold. I always found the pungent odor of marigolds to be quite off-putting, even revolting. However, they are stalwart bloomers and look amazing next to my sages of varying foliage. The peachy flowers are in a pot with lavender, and that is the most stunning combination of all. Will perhaps post a photo of that later. Here are the African Daisies. I can't recommend them enough.
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