Happy Feast of Saint Martin!

Today, November 11, marks the Feast of St. Martin.  This sort of date is hardly ever on my radar, but came racing to my attention as I read from Elizabeth Lawrence's Gardens in Winter this morning.

"Winter begins with the Feast of St. Martin, the eleventh of November.  About that time in Charlotte we have our first killing frost, which is often followed by golden days, called St. Martin's summer because flowers then bloom out of season as they did when St. Martin died and the boat that bore his body wafted up the Loire without sails or oars, while trees on either side burst into bloom."

Winter... beginning today?!  Ha!  In the days leading up to yesterday, it was more like summer.  I was sweating as I worked outside, in my garden and Lindie Wilson's garden.  (For the record, I do NOT enjoy sweating in November.)

What I found interesting, reading on in Gardens in Winter, was the next paragraph:

"In America the halcyon days came to be known as Indian summer, described in the Oxford English Dictionary as: 'Two or three weeks of fair weather, in which the air is perfectly transparent, and the clouds, which float in a sky of the purest azure, are adorned with brilliant colours. ... This charming season is called the Indian Summer, a name which is derived from the natives, who believe that it is caused by a wind which comes immediately from the court of their great and benevolent God Cautantowit.'"

Thank you, Libba, for educating us on what it means when someone references "St. Martin's summer" or "Indian Summer".  

Getting back to the Feast of St. Martin, I checked through Libba's records to see what she had in bloom on November 11 from 1949 through 1984, and compared that with what we have in bloom at SprottHaus in 2024.  I find the similarities rather interesting, but instead of going down that road (which would be like a ten-lane highway), I'll just give you a run-down of today's flora in our garden.  Just so you know, we have most certainly NOT had our first killing frost.

Of trees and shrubs, camellias are stealing the show right now.  Camellia sasanqua is at its height; I don't think ours have ever been so fully laden before.  C. caudata, adorable and fragrant, opened several soft pink tinted flowers two days ago, with more buds showing color.  The tiniest camellia I know, C. parvilimba, opened its first minute, pure white flower two days ago.  The entire plant (all of about three feet tall) is dotted with miniature white buds which look like stars in the night sky against its lilliputian shiny, dark green foliage.  

Camellia sasanqua fully loaded and full of beauty!

 

C. caudata is fragrant AND lovely.  Totes adorbs!!

 

These flowers of C. parvilimba are only about a half inch across.

Several hybrids are beginning their flower parade; among these, 'Yume', "Lindie Wilson", and 'Koto-no-Kaori' are my favorites.  

C. 'Yume' (I think it's pronounced "yoo-mee") is yummy.

I named this seedling for the previous owner and savior of the Elizabeth Lawrence House & Garden, Lindie Wilson.

C. 'Koto-no-kaori' came from a dear plant friend, which makes it even more special.

A few years ago, I noticed a tiny azalea seedling in Libba's garden.  I babied it, made sure it was watered in dry spells, and kept it from being overtaken by surrounding plants.  Early this year, I dug it up and brought it home.  I planted it out in April (fall is actually the best time for transplanting), and hoped I wouldn't forget to water it, as it was not yet even a foot tall.  To my surprise and delight, it is blooming for the very first time (still no larger than ten inches)!  Its flowers verify my suspicion that it descends from Rhododendron 'Rivermist', which was planted in Libba's garden decades ago.  I've recently read that it tends to come true from seed.  The star-shaped white flowers are flushed with the palest pink-lavender.  This cultivar is an early bloomer; its biggest show comes in late winter/early spring.  My records of the past 13 years show the parent plant's first flush as early as February 28 but most often the second or third week of March.  If not allowed to dry out in spring and summer 'Rivermist' is also a reliable fall bloomer, starting as early as mid-October but usually the first or second week of November.  It is not surprising to learn that this cultivar was developed by James Harris, father of the patented Bloom 'N Again® line of remontant azaleas.  

Rhododendron 'Rivermist' strain... a delicate flower on a thankfully tough plant.

Another surprise has come in the form of early flowers from a clump of Narcissus papyraceus that I rescued from a friend's garden before the bulldozer came through.  Normally, these bloom in mid to late December.  A week ago, I found the first two open flowers on a stem with several buds coming along.  With temperatures in the upper 70s and low 80s, these won't last long.  I must remember to go out and photograph them again before I post this.

Early bloom of Narcissus papyraceus (paperwhites)... I forgot to photograph them again before posting.

Speaking of bulbs, Crocus speciosus 'Conqueror' has come and gone, along with one early bloom on C. kotschyanus 'Albus', but I just noticed another one popping up.  These both bloom before sending up foliage.  Crocus laevigatus 'Fontenayi' blooms just after its foliage emerges, which I noticed is coming up now.  It won't be long before the dark purple feathered flowers will be open and hopin' for honeybees.

Crocus laevigatus 'Fontenayi' (winter crocus) should send up buds in the next few weeks.

The highly variable patterns of Cyclamen hederifolium Long Leaf Form are visually stunning.  I could look at them for hours.  Galanthus elwesii var. monostictus (early snowdrops) are just past their peak, but I see later-blooming G. elwesii nosing up already.  

Kaleidoscopic leaves of hardy cyclamen hold my attention longer than they should.  Who needs to do laundry?

The snowdrop season starts with G. elwesii var. monostictus for me.

Other dazzling delights that catch my eye as I walk through our garden include Fatsia japonica 'Murakumo Nishiki', Mahonia confusa (thread-leaf mahonia) seedlings, and Conoclinium greggii (Gregg's blue mistflower). 

First bloom on this variegated fatsia... yahoo!

I got these Mahonia confusa as tiny little seedlings many years ago.

Conoclinium greggii... another form of hardy blue ageratum.

 

Oh, oh!  I had my first bloom on Iris unguicularis (winter or Algerian iris) last week!  It's the earliest date by almost a month for the ones that I grow here.  It's not a plant for the novice, but once you can give it what it wants (perfect drainage, a little lime, and absolute dryness in summer), it will reward you with nearly weatherproof fragrant flowers from November straight through to March.

Iris unguicularis... it's not easy, but it's rewarding AND it smells nice.  That's me on a good day.

Some half-hardy perennials and not-at-all-hardy annuals that are looking quite nice at the moment are Cuphea ignea (cigar plant), Impatiens walleriana (the old-fashioned type), Petunia multiflora (old-fashioned climbing petunia), and Centrantherum punctatum (Brazilian bachelor button).  The fully hardy perennial Tradescantia pallida (purple heart) is flowering well, and has finally made a few robust patches in the garden.  

Cuphea ignea is also called the cigar plant, but I don't recommend smoking it

I haven't sown Impatiens walleriana in YEARS, but had two come up out of nowhere this year.  Score!!

Lindie Wilson gave me this gorgeous heirloom climbing petunia in early summer.  I hope it seeds out like hers do!

Tradescantia pallida with a color echo courtesy of Centrantherum punctatum.

So, happy Feast of St. Martin, everyone!  I hope this "first day of winter" (ho ho, ha ha, and also tee hee!) finds you relishing in the blooms of your own "St. Martin's Summer".  

Until next time, I remain...

Yours in Dirt,

Andrea