It's Still Autumn in Austin

Even though the Brugmansia went from still-in-bloom last Thursday afternoon

To crisped and frostbitten by Monday afternoon

Even though the Blue Butterfly Flower Clerodendrum is also crispy brown today

Even though the Loquat is no longer blooming and the hoped-for fruit may have been hit with cold and we'll have another year of no loquat fruit
Even though we're now using the big comforter instead of the light blankets, and the berries on the Burford Holly are a wintery-Christmasy red .

Even though the cannas that backed up the Julia Child rose are no longer green as in this photo from last Thursday

...it still feels like autumn to me.
After all, that Julia Child rose is still blooming and holding onto her foliage (in answer to Jean, the bloom is good, but she does get blackspot and has fewer leaves than she should)

After all, the temperatures are in the sixties and the leaves are falling and swirling around the patio, needing to be swept so we can use the barbecue,

After all, it took a long time to rake and sweep this pile, go over it with the mulching mower and empty the bag over and over into the wire leaf enclosure

After all, there seems to be an endless supply of unfallen leaves that will need raking - even if the projected cold front arrives
After all, the pomegranate tree is still glowing golden in the Secret Garden

After all, the pink rose near the Brugmansia is still blooming

And a rather dimwitted Monarch thought there was still time to raise a new generation
(Renee - as you wrote in your Statesman blog, this is not a good idea, is it!)

Oops - someone should get out the ladder and cut those pods of moonflower vine seeds to save for next spring

But the ladder is already in the living room, surrounded by ornaments and decorations boxes, placed next to the Christmas tree so I can reach the top branches.

Being organized for Christmas gets complicated where December acts like autumn.

Enjoying the Evergreens

According to Google Earth, it’s less than 14 miles from Austin’s Zanthan Garden to my Austin garden, but if you’ve been looking at our garden blog posts, we seem to be at least half a climate zone apart. MSS’s tomatoes are chilled, but intact, having gone just below the freezing point a few times. Another Austin blog, Rantomat, reports nothing frozen at all in her garden. Pam at Digging does seem to have a few frosted plants.

In this NW corner of Austin, my tomato and pepper plants were turned to mush at the first freeze on the first morning of December, with other plants, like the Pineapple Sage [Salvia elegans], not giving up until the temperatures went below 32ºF for a third time.

The fennel turned brown right away, but the Mexican Mint Marigold was barely brushed by the cold.

The Philippine Violet succumbed after the second freeze, first getting limp, now drying in place. There’s a paperwhite narcissus in front of it, ready to open a bud. Maybe the plants in South Austin are alive because of the moderating effect of the Colorado River, which has been dammed to make Lake Austin and Town Lake.

Is that what makes the difference? Or is it just being closer to the heart of the city? Another factor may be variations in elevation – Zanthan lies somewhat less than 500 feet above sea level, while Pam/Digging is under 680, and the elevation for the patio at The Transplantable Rose is 978 feet.
[That’s only 22 feet under the official definition of ‘mountain’ in the sweet Hugh Grant movie, The Englishman Who Went Up a Hill But Came Down a Mountain.]

Unlike the gardenblogs of true northern gardeners like Kati, I have no beautiful frost photos to offer, because these cold snaps hit and run, leaving damage but not sticking around to look seasonal. We have few conifers, but our broadleaved types of evergreens take over now, and plants like the boring-in-summer boxwood are appreciated when the banana is hanging in tatters.

Flowers like pansies and dianthus are planted in fall, or soon after the holiday decorations come down, and are called winter annuals.

In Illinois we planted them in late April, but that’s when the heat starts here. Dianthus and pansies sail though most winters, unfurling buds on warmish days, enjoying the cooler weather just as the gardeners do.

That’s an Ilex at the tip of this post – a Burford Holly of some kind. This shrub was already here when we came, but has never been so full of berries before. I cut a few pieces from it, stripping the bottoms of the clipped twigs and pushing them into the hanging baskets so that the berried tops will hide what remains of winter-killed lantana plants. I’m hoping the twigs can stay green as long as possible, holding onto their berries, and maybe a few can root, if conditions are right.

There’s a hedge of these hollies between my house and the one next door. I like my neighbors - they're lovely people - but they're not gardeners in any way. They prune to ensure that no shade falls across their pool, and they think that the outdoors should be as tidy as the indoors.

I had been eying my side of the hedge earlier in fall, observing the stem ends start to extend in new, lighter-colored growth and the berries begin to turn color. My plan was to make a real holly wreath for my door this Christmas. I was shocked to come home one day and find the Neat-Neighbors had used some kind of hedge clippers to form the holly hedge [and even the graceful variegated privet!] into ugly geometric boxes. If any of those holly cuttings take root, there may be another hedge of holly here some day, not along the lot line, but growing well inside my domain, and never touched by a power tool.