Mum's the word

For many, autumn is the time of nature’s temporary death, coldness, wetness, and general misery sans much colour. For others, autumn rhymes with chrysanthemum. Their aroma is the scent of autumn.

These daisy cousins are as unassuming as they are wonderful. Chrysanthemums are hardy, too — we’ve had some late bloombers do perfectly well at below 0 degrees. Right now, the garden is in full bloom and the weather forecast says sub-zero temperatures for next week. Snow, too. And they will survive, which makes them truly special.

Surely, there are many hardy flowers, just not in this region. Here, chrysanthemums are the only colour come November and what perfect timing this is. Most of the world turns grey and brown by November, unless a series of late rains add splotches of brilliant green from newborn grass.

In the midst of that grey-brown palette, the bright colour of even a single chrysanthemum that’s decided it will not put out more than one stalk this year and will accommodate all flowers on it could make your day, or ours, at least.

Some are better behaved and proliferate as they should, like the short yellow guys below. Others — the pink ones — find the weight of existence a little too much and always end up lying down on the grass and the leaves. These are legacies of Irina’s mum, planted more than 30 years ago, and evidence that in addition to their many other properties, chrysanthemums are also long-lifers.

This little Hydra is a new addition. A Copper Spider, it’s a year old and settling well. If it weren’t for some pretty strong wings with the accompaniment of rain, we wouldn’t have had to prop it up with sticks.

The Yellow Spider, another new addition, did quite well, too. In fact, all three of the new chrysanthemums we bought last year were full of buds, in the absence of any care except watering during the summer drought and the random sprinkling with some leftover fertiliser from the veggie beds. The soil must really agree with them.

Another legacy and a most fascinating one. As it buds, it’s coppery in colour. When it starts opening its petals, it looks whitish. In full bloom, well, you can see for yourself. We moved most of the legacies last year, as they were running out of breathing space due to unchecked tulip proliferation. It’s a project in progress.

Our only pom pom chrysanthemum, it truly outdid itself. When we got it last year, it was one shy plant. This year, it sprouted three, each of which sprouted several branches in turn, and each of these branches was packed with blooms.

It’s so beautiful that here’s a closeup.

There is something quite magical about the way some chrysanthemums’ petals seem neverending, with more and more waiting to open as soon as there’s some space for them.

Finally, our latest additions: a couple of miniature chrysanthemum bushes that got over the initial shock of going from pot to ground and even shook off the bugs that started eating their leaves as soon as they arrived. Mums are hardy.