After an unusually cold summer, we've finally had temperatures in the 90s all last week here in the SF Bay Area. It's a bit confusing, really. I look at the Asclepias speciosa (showy milkweed) leaf above and think it's drying out. But actually, it's going dormant. Weird.
At the same time, the liquidambar is putting on a show with the bright red and orange fall color, while the neighbor runs the air conditioner.
But onwards to the blooms. The happiest news have been the abundant and beautiful blossoms of our autumn-blooming Camelia. Sadly, we can't enjoy it from the window of our sunroom because our remodel is still going on and going on and going on, and we're banned from most of the house. But it's been plenty warm enough for dinners and weekend breakfasts outside, and the sight of the flowers and the critters warms my heart.
Also blooming beautifully, though not as tall this year as last, is the Japanese anemone next to the sunroom west wall.
On the CA native front, the Epilobium (California fuchsia) is still delighting hummingbirds with its red and salmon trumpets. After a slow start, it's the fast food destination for the hummingbirds in both the front and back garden.
A special surprise has been Eriophyllum lanatum (Wolly sunflower). Struggling mightily in a spot that really has not been sunny enough (to be remedied soon), this sweet little flower has brought forth a few little blooms even now in late October, and I have high hopes for an even better show in the new location next year.
But really, fall and the first rains will be coming soon enough. Yes, right now it's hot, but soon we'll dig out the woolen scarves and winter shoes, the gloves and the long-legged bike pants. The rains will come and I'll start to rearrange the furniture -- no, the plants! in the garden. But more about that soon. For now, we enjoy the puffy little clouds behind the redwoods in the mourning, and the twittering -- no, the happy songs of the migrating birds in the trees.
And now, I'll be heading over to Carol at May Dreams Gardens to see what's blooming in her garden (and later, what's blooming in everyone else's garden). Won't you join me there?