Autumn – the beautiful denouement

Denouement is a French word that literally means the action of untying, from a verb meaning to untie. Noun: the outcome of a complex sequence of events

The leaves have untied themselves from the trees, or perhaps they were gently let go.  Generously covering the garden beds and the forest floor, they color the world in tones of gold, orange, rust, and brown while returning the nutrients to the earth in an ancient process of release, decay and regeneration.

Autumn was a long languorous process, with its first hesitant steps in September proceeding through stages of leaf color change and ultimate descent to the earth.

Every day, the stroll through the garden was different. The early morning sun could cast fiery color and deep shadows or it could be filtered through a gentle mist that saturated the leaves and enhanced the rich range of autumnal color.

At last the storms and winds prevailed and the fall of leaves over a few days and weeks was spectacular. I was able to capture some of the magical moments of this process in video.

You may be in the southern continents where spring is now emerging, or in a tropical zone where there is no autumn. The earth is a wide and wonderful place and I have been privileged to see much of it in person. Yet, there is something about autumn in the northern continents that tugs at my heart, the dramatic shift in color and the subtle earthy scents of a world renewed by the long arc of seasonal change. Wherever you are on this planet, I hope that you can savor the beauty and sweetness of denouement, the end of one season and the beginning of another.

All photos and text ©2025 Lynn Emberg Purse except where noted.

 

The color of summer

I try to apply colors like words that shape poems, like notes that shape music. ~Joan Miró 

The garden was lush and green in July and overflowing with colorful plants. Cool foggy mornings are a special joy, wrapping the garden in quiet. They create rich moments of saturated color that enspell me and often make me late for appointments, as I cannot bear to leave such a gift of beauty.

Color fills my sight at every step through the garden and I revel in it. Miró was right about color and music and poetry. Tone poems are the stuff of musical artistry and if I get it right, the whole garden becomes a tone poem, an artistic romance realized in the color and texture and juxtaposition of plants. And the fireflies add an extra magical note. Here’s a cinematic look at the garden in July, beginning with flowers and ending with fireflies.

Of course, poems and paintings and written music don’t really change over time, but the garden certainly does. It is more like a dance than a painting, perhaps starting awkwardly like a preadolescent but then coming into its own moment of time. I am constantly amazed how it can change overnight – new color, shifting light, some plants finishing their solos while others step forward.

The sounds of summer have changed as well. The birds are done raising their broods and their songs have given way to the constant hum of cicadas during the August days and the pulsing rhythms of katydids at night. The katydid songs in my midnight woods are captured in the audio clip below. 

I’ve been spending mornings on my upper deck lately. As the larger gardens gather their strength after a late summer haircut, I find joy in the color that is more constant in this little retreat tucked among the treetops. The winged ones find their way to this garden in the sky and the cherry tomatoes that thrive there are a delicious surprise at happy hour.

In spite of heat, drought, wild thunderstorms, and fog, this summer’s garden has been a joyful place to be. How is summer treating you?

All text, photos, and videos ©2025 Lynn Purse, All Rights Reserved except where noted

 

Playing with color

The garden is moving into its most colorful time of the growing season. Daylilies and Echinacea have come into bloom, tall lilies release their fragrance into the air on warm days and, even at twilight, the white Hydrangea flowers make a bright statement in the circle garden.

One of my favorite garden areas is the Grape and Lemonade bed, where all of the flowers are purple and lemon yellow. I’ve been wanting to paint a flower pot in those colors to place in the bed in order to amp up the color and finally had the time to do it. I’ve always been inspired by artist and gardener Keeyla Meadows for the way that she paints large garden pots and then plants them in the same color palette. You can see some of her work here or visit her on Instagram @keeylameadows.

While I’m not nearly as adventurous as she is, this is my first attempt at painting and planting a pot to echo a color theme.

And here it is in the garden – even from far away, the rim of the pot stands out and will add color until the end of the garden season.

I created a short video of the Grape and Lemonade bed and how I painted the pot, which I consider a small gift to a pretty part of the garden. It is the first video in a series I’m starting on my YouTube channel called “Spotlight in the Garden”. Enjoy!

I hope you are enjoying floral fireworks at the height of summer, and if you are lucky, an evening show of fireflies.

All text, photos, and video ©2025 Lynn Emberg Purse, All rights reserved.

Garden Chronicles

The world of reality has its limits; the world of imagination is boundless. ~Jean-Jacques Rousseau

Last night I finished editing a video chronicle of my 2024 garden. There was so much that I hadn’t shared last year for various reasons and it seemed a good idea to create a close look at the garden throughout the blooming year. I became lost in the lovely images of flowers and the sound of birdsong while editing – I uploaded the video to YouTube and went to bed. This morning, when I stepped outside with Pixie, I was shocked to find myself back in a cold snowy frozen world! Where were the flowers? Where was the color, the warmth, the birdsong? Perhaps reality is all in the mind, the imagination. If so, the garden of my imagination and memory is my preferred reality.

I’m preparing for minor shoulder surgery this week, so this post will be shorter than usual. Until I can return to the page, please enjoy my “alternate reality” of life in the garden.

Garden Dreams

Is there a gardener living who doesn’t dream of what a new garden season can bring? Our long winter months in the American north encourage that dreaming. The sharp changes from warm to frozen and back again inspired me to freeze some hellebore buds in ice to reflect this spring’s crazy weather. The seeds I ordered by Christmas were planted indoors under lights and outdoors in wintersown jugs by early February. Lists of  plants were made and remade, then ordered – they are now arriving almost daily.

The garden slowly evolved from its late winter glow

into early spring bloom

and then into vibrant spring color.

The weeping cherry in the center of the circle garden bloomed early and profusely. As always, it was alive with hungry pollinators looking for a early meal.

Gradually it released its petals as the greens of the garden emerged,

followed by fragrant purple sandcherry blossoms perfuming the air near the deck.

My biggest garden dream this year is to plant several new woodland garden beds with all native plants. For the past three years, I have been systematically removing invasive plants in the woods and plants that are not pollinator friendly in the garden beds. My longterm goal is to have 70% of the garden plants be native (the woods are already 90%). As I increase that percentage each year, more insects and birds take up home here and grace the garden with their presence.

I’ll be tracking my progress this year as part of a collaboration with some YouTube garden friends as we each pursue and document our garden dreams over the year. Here is my first installment of the video series, let me know what you think below in the comments. Happy garden dreams!

Spring drew on…and a greenness grew over those brown beds, which, freshening daily, suggested the thought that Hope traversed them at night, and left each morning brighter traces of her steps. ~Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre