My Jack-in-the-Pulpit's seed pods have turned completely red now. I love this plant in all of its forms—spring, summer and fall.
Small Zinnia, not quite fully unfurled, presents a pinwheel of colors to the world, attracting butterflies and hummingbirds.
Jetstar tomatoes, almost ready for the pickin'.
I started this Angelwing Begonia last year by rooting (propagating) a single leaf from my original plant.
My Brandywines, an heirloom variety, still have plenty of green tomatoes ensuring fresh fruit for the rest of the fall.
The first two nasturtiums have bloomed. These are planted in the twin cast-iron Victorian containers in front of the house.
I've affixed a curved tree limb over the Hummingbird Gate to the vegetable garden for the morning glories to climb on—they are, in blue and pink. I think next year I might make a more permanent arch from aged wood like the gate itself.
My pink Zinnias emerged from the storm relatively unscathed. I picked all the full blossoms before Irene and the new buds are just beginning to bloom.
This morning glory vine has reached the Audubon bird house, grown inside and emerged from a tiny crack at the top. There are no birds nesting in it right now, but a small Downy Woodpecker sleeps in it at night!
My purple tradescanthia has really grown quite a bit in the last few weeks. It should have small pink flowers soon. At the end of the season, I'll dig up the geraniums, spike plants and this purple plant and winter them over in the attic.
Heavenly Blue morning glories are finally beginning to bloom.
My sedums are finally flowering, keeping this garden gnome company!
June's squash plants have produced two squashes. Our pumpkin vines, zero. We'll have to read up this winter about how to ensure fruits on these vines. They've had literally dozens of flowers but just two fruit.
The sunflowers are drooping now, but I still marvel at their geometric seed patterns. The birds love to pick at them, so I leave them in this drooping stage, even though I want to clip them off!