Spring’s got a reputation for being the apex of a garden’s beauty. The idea is that once those darling buds have popped, it’s downhill from then on. I blame it partly on Wordsworth who wrote about stumbling upon ten thousand yellow daffodils thus sealing the fates of a generation who, as schoolchildren, were programmed to think “Where there’s daffodils, we’d better pay attention.”
A long, slow, miserable winter (like the kind the forecasters promise will be coming again this year) can also make even the most jaded among us overreact at the first signs of spring–”Oh, look! Three daffodils finally came up through the dead grey snow. Whoopee.”
But I’m here to make a shout-out to late summer. When the days start getting a little shorter, do the flowers glow in richer colours, the grasses get lusher and the leaves bust out in a full-on sensory symphony of colour, rustle-crunch and wet green smells? Or is it just me?
Here’s to plants that take their time and save their best for the last moments of the season. Click any photo to start the slideshow.
Campanula’s come closest to what fairies where to the ball. They remind me of spring in the waning days of summer.
Cosmos (Cosmos bipinnatus) blooms and blooms until the first hard frost.
Aptly known as Cigar Plant, Cuphea ignea is a striking annual for the Southern Ontario garden. This one is ‘Matchmaker Scarlet’.
Blooming from June to August, Scarlet Flax (Linum grandiflorum ‘Rubrum’) can thrive in poor soil.
Amaranthus tricolour often goes by the more picturesque name of Joseph’s Coat. It’s an annual in Southern Ontario.
Echinacea comes in many colours from pale yellow to deep purple but I love the coppery pinks.
One of the brightest, truest blue of all the flowers, gentian is a marvel. There are several varieties so if you want this in your end-of-season garden, choose one that blooms from late summer to early fall.
Monarda, also known as Beebalm, attracts hummingbirds and butterflies.
Dwarf Balloon Flowers (Platydodon grandiflorus ‘Sentimental Blue’) are shorter, later-blooming cousins of Bellflowers (Campanula).
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Spring’s got a reputation for being the apex of a garden’s beauty. The idea is that once those darling buds have popped, it’s downhill from then on. I blame it partly on Wordsworth who wrote about stumbling upon ten thousand yellow daffodils thus sealing the fates of a generation who, as schoolchildren, were programmed to think “Where there’s daffodils, we’d better pay attention.”
