In early autumn, deer eaten hostas are far more problematic than damage done by the extended, late summer drought. Just before the first of two major rainfalls, I resisted the urge to break out the hoses, so only a few new plantings were watered through a summer when there were only a few insignificant showers. Plants in this garden are conditioned to survive without supplemental irrigation, and this served well through the drought that stretched from late spring into the last days of summer.

The damage to hostas is entirely the result of my negligence. Typically, I try to spray the deer repellent around the first of a month, or failing that, whenever I see the first damage to a hosta in the side garden that is always the first to go. For whatever reason, this hosta was not chewed, but many others were partially eaten in the day or two it took me to take notice. Oh well, it’s getting late in the season and often in October I turn the deer loose on hostas and other fading perennials that die back to the ground with the earliest freezes. So, it’s not a big problem, but I’ve had to live with the munched hostas for the past several weeks while the garden was looking good despite the drought.

Several weeks ago, acquaintances began bragging over their surprise lilies (Lycoris radiata, above) while mine had yet to peek above ground. Of course, once they break ground flowering is only a few days off, and days later the old timers were up with newcomers a few days behind. The group in the front along the driveway were first, and I hardly noticed the ones beside the greenhouse. Barbara asked if the lacy foliage was from the lilies, but they have no leaves, only the flower.

Near the surprise lilies by the driveway, the autumn flowering colchicum also borrows the appearance of foliage as it rises through the low growing, yellow leafed ‘Banana Boat’ carex (above). While many carex will tolerate full sun, others require no more than filtered sun. ‘Banana Boat’ tolerates a bit of sun, but it baked beside the driveway in the late summer heat. Only parts of the sedge nearest the asphalt were damaged, so I have no reason to consider moving it.

While seeds of Japanese Forest grasses (Hakonechloa macra ‘Aureola’, above) are not highly ornamental, they add texture to the already graceful, arching leaves. Both ‘Aureola’ and ‘All Gold’ are marvelous grasses through spring into autumn tumbling over stone walls. A green leafed Hake grass offers the same arching stems, but lacks color and I’m glad I planted only one.

A few of the toad lilies begin flowering in the heat of August, but most delay until September. Today, all are flowering though the few scattered flowers of ‘Miyazaki’ (Tricyrtis hirta ‘Miyazaki’, above) are behind the others. Until this area of the garden became overcrowded, seedlings of ‘Miyazaki’ were found frequently so that many plants were shared with acquaintances. The clumps of most of the toad lilies increase in size yearly, so rooted divisions are easily dug and potted to share.

I often see toad lilies recommended for shade, but here, the best flowering is on ones with exposure to a few hours of direct sun. A few clumps brown along the edges in too much sun, but these flower the heaviest. Several toad lilies in deeper shade flower sparsely, and these are candidates for relocation. In recent years I’ve slowed down adding to the collection of toad lilies as part sun areas became scarce, but I’d still like to add a few with yellow flowers.

The beautyberries (Callicarpa, above and below) are nearing their peak color. Several varieties are scattered through the garden from shade to full sun, with ones that are shaded having only slightly fewer berries. Two American beautyberries (Callicarpa americana, below) did not survive last year, with only one remaining. They are slightly less woody than Asian varieties, and perhaps they’re more finicky about soil moisture.

The next, and perhaps best, phase with red calyces replacing faded flowers of the Seven Son trees (Heptacodium miconioides, above) has kicked in. This is not so great for pollinators, but it continues the beauty of this small tree. The late summer clusters of small, white blooms attract many pollinators, but the the calyx color is the reason to plant the Seven Son.