Last Gasp of Summer

It's all over for this year, or will be soon.

But my Swing Garden is overgrown enough so that there are still more than a few warm late afternoons to sit out by the fountain.

That hanging coleus I bought in May is now too large to fit entirely in the picture frame - no idea what I'm going to do with it this winter -I hate to see it die, but cold will eventually kill it in January in the greenhouse, and the cats will eat it inside - not an acceptable action, since coleus leaves are poisonous.

This normally red-and-green leafed coleus has mutated into dark purple and green.

And the pond papyrus plants have exploded - they will winter over nicely in the greenhouse and be nack next year. They always remind me of the Moses-in-the-bullrushes story. No floating babies in the pond yet.

Water cannas have bloomed twice, and are trying to start again.

This Exhilaration coleus loves the afternoon sun. The leaves almost pop up and seem to glow.

And lastly - late afternoon sun, last gasp before twilight, laying on the Autumn Bronze coleus.

If you were all closer, I'd send a coleus home with everyone of you. That's how many I have - and no place to winter any of them. I swear we only started with five or six, but they multiply, and get much bigger.

Maybe I can send them to my mom's for the winter. Or at the very least, take cuttings and let them live through their grandchildren next spring.

Old King Coleus

Burgundy Wedding Train

My daughter has developed an obsession for coleus. We are now overrun with them, and every trip to the greenhouse results in at least two more. Since there are currently 1400 different named varieties, I'm thinking we're going to need more room.

Notice I said "named" varieties. Coleus is the king of the inbred plant families -having made a 180-year long pastime of hybridizing with its cousins.

Also known as the flame nettle (a much more saucy name than 'coleus' don't you think), these colorful plants were native to Java, until a botanist named Karl Blume introduced them to Europe, just in time for the Victorian era (think 1840-1900 more or less).

Remember the Victorians? Paisley carpets, heavy velvet curtains, big Boston ferns, ornately decorated furniture.....and......huge pots of coleus.

Kingwood Torch

Turns out the coleus was the big Victorian equalizer. Greenhouses and elaborate gardens had been only for the wealthy, until the easily-propagated coleus came along. Middle-class citizens could not only afford a plant on the front stoop, but they could share with their neighbor, just by breaking off a spire, and placing it in water.

The coleus proved to be easily hybridized (cross-bred) with itself, over and over again, literally to the point that no one is sure what the original coleus looked like.

Orange King

On the other hand, the 1400 varieties are fascinating, with no two being alike. Colors range from green, red/green, purple/green, yellow, golden, red/pink, orange, pink/green, and thousands of other variations.

Sometimes it feels as if we have 1399 of those varieties on our back porch.

Including this pot of babies - the seedlings come up pure green, and then they get their color spots.

In the front is Alabama, with Rustic Orange Improved behind it (this one is so beautiful, it should have had a much prettier name - maybe "Copper Glow" - that's what I'm going to call it from now on).

Have a little Pink Chaos (to go with all the other chaos out there).

This red and green mix is just like Sousaphones and polka bands: Oompah!

But this one is my absolute favorite with ruffled leaves that almost glow and a name to match its deep color: Tilt A Whirl.

For more coleus (some 1390 to be exact), you can visit:

http://www.coleusfinder.org/