Saturday Farmer's Market - Mum's the Word

Created by Heather at Capricious Reader, and now hosted by Chris at Stuff as Dreams are Made on.

This is just a small part of the Crepe Myrtle bed. We've expanded the bed twice so that most of the lawn is now gone, and I would like to replace what is left of it with some kind of paving. 

The plants are not all native to my area, but they are all drought tolerant. The Bees and Butterflies are happy with the plants, and the Birds are keeping the pests in check. 

My biggest complaint about the bed at this point is that the Lantana, as a tender perennial, dies to the ground over winter and that area it covers is empty. I need some ideas about what to add that will give me some interest in winter. Whatever I put there needs to be drought tolerant, disease and pest resistant, and easy care. That's not too much to ask, is it?

 

I have a new Garden Cat.

Say hello to George, a scrawny old cat with a snaggletooth.

He's calling loudly for breakfast every morning when I turn on the plant lights.

It's nice having company in the garden again, but his knowledge of horticulture is a bit lacking.

There don't seem to have as many Pomegranates as last year. I've read that it is very common for fruit trees to have a heavy year followed by a light one. This year's fruit is quite large, though. Most of them are at least as large as a softball, and some are larger.








The Budleia is growing nicely and very popular with the winged set.








This is my Mint. (It was hard to get a good angle on it.)

I have four different kinds, each in its own pot, even though it looks like one single hedge.

There is Peppermint, Spearmint, Chocolate Mint, and Orange Mint.

Harvest time!

I plan to make Mint Jelly so I'm looking for a good recipe. Does anyone have a family recipe that they'd like to share?

The Chrysanthemums are just a little bit closer to blooming this week.

The Last Chrysanthemum
- Thomas Hardy

Why should this flower delay so long
         To show its tremulous plumes?
Now is the time of plaintive robin-song,
         When flowers are in their tombs.

Through the slow summer, when the sun
         Called to each frond and whorl
That all he could for flowers was being done,
         Why did it not uncurl?

It must have felt that fervid call
         Although it took no heed,
Waking but now, when leaves like corpses fall,
         And saps all retrocede.

Too late its beauty, lonely thing,
         The season's shine is spent,
Nothing remains for it but shivering
         In tempests turbulent.

Had it a reason for delay,
         Dreaming in witlessness
That for a bloom so delicately gay
         Winter would stay its stress?

- I talk as if the thing were born
         With sense to work its mind;
Yet it is but one mask of many worn
         By the Great Face behind.