For those who love grand finales, fall in New England is among the best. It is one of nature’s outstanding gestures and spectacular to behold.

            Autumn’s show can differ from year to year, but you can usually depend on that last hurrah. I’ll take the muted colors of the current season – admittedly not as fabulous as past seasons, but lovely all the same. The stress from drought is to blame for the crispy edges of leaves, mellower colors, and early leaf drop. Processes shut down prematurely and so the vibrant purples, reds and oranges that we are accustomed to have been less impressive.

            Meanwhile, we in the states (and abroad) are having a mast year, meaning one with an unusually large crop of acorns from trees like oaks. “Mast” is a collective term for the fruits and nuts… a bumper crop in other words. This phenomenon occurs every few years and is an evolutionary strategy for trees to produce so many seeds that wildlife cannot eat them all, increasing the survival rate for their offspring. This abundance is also leading to consequences like more clogged gutters and a boom in wildlife populations that feed on the seeds.

            Such a surplus has evolutionary advantages whereby some seeds are left to germinate and grow into new trees. It can likely result in a population explosion of seed-eating animals which in turn can benefit their predators, such as hawks and foxes, not to mention ticks.

            I ruminate on this as I pick hundreds of privet seedlings by hand, to the point that my hand is numb. Does it mean next year there will be more? I spent nearly the entire weekend working on fall cleanup, not just raking leaves, but cleaning the entire understory of my woodland garden that runs a goodly length of the property. The upper story is made up of Eastern white pines and a Norway spruce which make for good windbreaks but also tend to shed needles and cones. Mid canopy is occupied by rhododendrons and mountain laurel and a Japanese snowbell tree, a trio of oak leaf hydrangea and one standard ‘pink-winky’ hydrangea. Below these are some native ground covers, patches of ferns and a swath of wildflowers that bloom in the spring.

            Cleanup is a mixture of deadheading (we’re talking thousands of spent rhody blossoms) the aforementioned elimination of many privet seedlings and light pruning. Along with the physical detailing, I’m checking for overall health as well as needed modifications. One established rhody is on its last trunks, so to speak… as I cut off one massive branch, I discovered borers; something that will have to be dealt with. The line of rhodies was planted astride a privet hedge the result is a long corridor between the two which forms a sort of secret garden. I haven’t really been attentive to this area in a few years, but I made it a goal this year and it is taking me quite a bit of time to get it completed.

            The floor of this woodland garden benefits from itself in that I spread it with pine needles, replacing them every few years. When you have a surplus of pine needles it makes sense to use it– what better place than where the occupants thrive in acid soil. (You can actually use pine needles in most gardens as their acidity neutralizes as they decompose). The fresh needles are a lovely mix of gold and pale green, and they are light enough to serve as a weed barrier and also light enough that plants can make their way through in the emerge in the spring – epimedium, bluebells and lily of the valley as well as a variety of ferns and randomly placed hostas. The soft underfooting is another pleasure.

            My husband is the commander of the hedge, but I control most of the woodland garden and it has come to my notice that I will need to show him the beauty of leucothoe when it’s not trimmed back (something he’s been doing of late). It is very pretty when it’s left to drape in its natural way. I came to this realization while clearing the inner sanctum of a section of garden – feeling like a plant explorer in a new land. Well, not new, but rediscovered for sure.

            And, just like that, the weekend hours are fruitful and well spent.

            The cycle of outdoor life likewise creeps to its conclusion – the presence of birds and small mammals are now visibly receding. For this reason, I use my Merlin bird identification app a lot to let me know who is still hanging around. The latest is a Carolina Wren and up close she is as pretty as her song.

            During my childhood years, my grandmother took us on an annual pilgrimage to the Mohawk Trail to view the amazing foliage. We’d stop at panoramic vistas and tourist outposts to purchase maple sugar candy and view Indian artifacts. Upon our return my great grandmother would smile in her knowing way and say that there was plenty to see right in her own backyard. As always, she was right.

            “The falling leaves drift by the window… the autumn leaves of red and gold.” -lyrics by Jacques Prevert.

The Coastal Gardener

By Laura McLean