We’ve passed the autumnal equinox and summer is officially over.

I’ve been noticing signs of the changing season. Later sunrise. Earlier sunset. Hints of color on the trees.

I’ve been picking up acorns on my walks and planning where I’ll plant my seed garlic.

pink cosmos flowers reaching for the sky

My garden is still hanging in there. Colorful and overflowing its beds, even if some of the plants are finished for the year.

It’s not the prettiest time in the garden but I’m loving this space more than ever and finding so much joy in each and every flower.

I think the fact that soon it will all disappear is making my scruffy, end-of-season garden even sweeter to me.

a late summer garden looking beautifully unkempt

I took these photos yesterday (all but the peaches), a damp and dreary morning.

pink cosmos and two colors of orange dahlias mingle together in a garden

Although the ground is wet in these photos, it wasn’t until last night that we had any real rain. Our area has been in an extreme to exceptional drought throughout the summer.

I’m a bit amazed by how good things look with how dry it’s been.

pink dahlias and orange zinnias grow beautifully together with vining morning glories

At this time in the season, I’m thinking about what I’ll do differently next year.

Actually, I do this all season long as I observe my plants. Sometimes I change my mind as the season progresses.

Early in the summer I doubted my choice of flowering begonias for many of my pots and planters. They were filled with flowers when I first planted them and then… nothing. What a disappointment.

But after a short rest, they filled out again and haven’t stopped blooming.

a window box planter filled with pink and orange begonias is a pretty addition to a boring garage

Their colors are so welcome. Especially now as the season comes to a close.

planters on a garage, including an old mailbox, are filled with pretty flowers

And the fragrance of this begonia hanging above the main garden gate continues to bring me joy each day, too.

a hanging basket filled with a peach flowered begonia

I’m not sure if I’ll try to overwinter them or take some cuttings.

an orange flowered dahlia grows in front of a garage decorated with a barn quilt in colors to match the garden flowers

Although I’m not going to dig the Bishop’s Children Dahlia tubers (I’ll just plant more seeds next spring), I am planning on digging the others. They’ve been some of my favorite plants this summer and I know I want at least as many next year.

Peach and purple dahlias grow together with pink cosmos flowers

Somehow I never have enough zinnias, no matter how many I seem to plant.

Oklahoma Salmon zinnias are pretty beside a grey artemisia and red veined sorrel

Nasturtiums took over the garden this year. I thought I’d planted mounding types (these Butterscotch nasturtiums are supposed to be), but many spilled and rambled all over the garden, disregarding their seed packet descriptions.

pale yellow nasturtiums spill out of their raised bed and onto a patio

Some, like the ones below, obscured my garden paths. I’ve cut them back multiple times and routinely tromp all over the plants, but they don’t seem to mind.

the garden in autumn is still filled with color although some of the plants are starting to fade

I’m grateful for the color they’re still bringing to the garden as everything winds down.

I’m grateful for all these late-season flowers. Not just for me, but for my garden visitors, too.

Bees. Butterflies. I still see hummingbirds every day, zooming from flower to flower.

this autumn garden is filled with plants and flowers in different colors, some spilling out of raised beds and others rambling across arches over the paths

My garden continues to feed me, too.

My peach harvest was amazing. The box below is only a fraction of my peaches. I ate them fresh, gave some away, baked peach upside-down cake and crisp and was still able to freeze six, gallon-size bags of fruit.

a box filled with peaches harvested out of my garden

One of the branches on my peach tree broke and I’m contemplating how I’ll prune the rest of the tree in the spring.

I’m enjoying tomatoes, eggplant, herbs, kale. But although my summer-planted lettuce is beautiful (and it was supposed to be heat tolerant), it is too bitter to eat.

Deep reddish brown lettuce leaves are beautifully ruffled

My summer-planted peas didn’t like the heat, either. If we have a long autumn it’s possible they’ll perk up and take off, but I’m not counting on it.

I’m also not sure if my late-planted lettuce, spinach, radishes and beets will have enough time to finish growing. I was proud of being on top of succession planting this summer, but so much depends on the weather.

Sometimes the weather does work in my favor. I noticed something very exciting when I was sitting on the deck the other day.

garden paths lead to a deck surrounded by raised beds

My giant pineapple sage plant is filled with buds.

an unfurling stem of flower buds promises beautiful red flowers on this pineapple sage plant

The season often isn’t long enough for the plants to bloom here in Wisconsin. I grow it for its fragrance, but I wish I could also enjoy the beautiful flowers. As long as the frost doesn’t come too soon, I will. And so will the hummingbird stragglers.

I have many more thoughts about this year’s garden and ideas for next year’s.

raindrops on beautiful red bishop's children dahlia flowers

It’s one of the joys of gardening. The thinking and planning and dreaming.

What garden joys are you savoring? What garden dreams are you dreaming?

September 2023 In The Garden: Still Savoring

I think the fact that soon it will all disappear is making my scruffy, end-of-season garden even sweeter to me.

At this time in the season, I’m thinking about what I’ll do differently next year.

I’m grateful for all these late-season flowers. Not just for me, but for my garden visitors, too.

It’s one of the joys of gardening. The thinking and planning and dreaming.