I planned to write this newsletter last Friday, but instead I spent the morning sitting in the floor in the middle of my house with my kids and my husband while Helene hit.
A 100-year-old tree fell on our garage, but we were safe.
Back up a few weeks to Labor Day, the supposed transition to fall, I got a call I could never have imagined. My boss and mentor of the last 10 years had a heart attack, the kind they call a “widowmaker,” and he passed away two days later. I was shocked.
I went to Portland, ME with a dear friend for a trip we already had planned, and journaled pages and pages and pages to get the swirling emotions out of my head while sitting in a community garden I found by the sea.
I attended my boss’ memorial service in Atlanta, drove from one AirBNB across town to another AirBNB, and then attended my brother-in-law’s wedding.
I came home to a hurricane in the foothills, electricity out, people in desperate need, a tree on my house, and the kids out of school indefinitely… and so, so many unknowns.
Whiplash on whiplash on whiplash.
One thing that struck me the day after the storm—when trees lay like rubble after a bombing—was the butterflies.
Yes, butterflies.
I just kept seeing dozens of them. Everywhere.
Strange juxtaposition.
Light, joyful little flutters of color finding the flowers that were already popping up their faces and stretching towards the sun through fallen branches and acorns and leaves. Like the earth hadn’t just raged against their very existence.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned through all the grief I’ve experienced in the last 5 years it’s that joy and sorrow mingle oddly, that when we let them do their work in us our capacity to hold the two simultaneously deepens and stretches and pulls us to hold more.
I don’t really want to hold more, but I find I am able.
Another thing that struck me was that my cherry tomatoes sustained almost no damage. They held onto their fruit; their branches did not crack. My shishitos blew over but did not break. There were ripe cucumbers on the vine morning after horrors.
Somehow that’s making it even harder for me to let go.
I need to cut back those tomatoes, top-dress the soil with compost, and get fall plants in the ground. But I can’t bear to do it yet.
Those tomatoes are still showing up for me, and I think I’m just going to let them.
The little book signing event we had planned at Page & Flame in Landrum was canceled because of the storm, but we'll try to reschedule.
Also, random fun thing that happened week before last in the midst of all the chaos of my personal life, I was featured in Clemson World for "The Uncomplicated Gardener."
I don’t really want to hold more, but I find I am able.
Fall 2024
What I’m Reading & Listening To
In Pursuit of Flavor
Edna Lewis
I’m on a kick learning more about traditional ways Southerners gardened and cooked what they grew. Miss Lewis is esteemed for good reason.
Taste the State: South Carolina's Signature Foods, Recipes, and Their Stories
Kevin Mitchell and David S. Shields
In the same vein, I learned so much about which crops thrived here before the advent of modern gardening and farming practices.
Planting: A New Perspective
Piet Oudolf and Noel Kingsbury
Learning more about how to practically leverage native perennials in beautiful combinations to support wildlife and aesthetics.
What I’m Growing
A list of what is actively growing in my vegetable garden right now.
Arugula: This is a first for me, and I’m loving it!
Cucumbers: I direct-sowed these in August and have already harvest 5 or 6. This will be an every year later-summer thing for me. I haven’t had any pest pressure.
Garlic: I’m waiting another week or two to plant. Mid-to-late October has worked well for me in the past.
Herbs: Oregano, rosemary, thyme, green onion, chives, peppermint, spearmint, applemint, lemongrass, dill and sage.
Lettuce: I’ll wait until the end of October and direct sow a variety of lettuces.
Peppers: Shishito and cayenne, just a bit longer.
Tomatoes: Cherry “blue berries” and San Marzano, just a bit longer.
Calendula: The seed packets seem to suggest these for spring most often, but they always do better for me in the fall.
Lavender: Currently getting a second flush of flowers!
Nasturtiums: This is another one I direct-sowed in August. We’ll see. I’ve never planted these in the fall.
Zinnias: The zinnia fell over during the storm and then just started growing upwards from where they fell. Stalwart flowers.
Help
There are obviously so many people in need in so many ways right now in our area. But since this is a gardening newsletter, I wanted to highlight two ways to help that are related to plants.
Conestee Nature Preserve
This incredible nature preserve and park in Mauldin, SC suffered incredible damage and is currently closed. Follow along on Instagram or join their newsletter list for opportunities to volunteer and help it recover.
Carolina Native Nursery
I featured this important plant nursery in the Plants Map edition of Paper Routes. This nursery is located in Western North Carolina and lost 90% of their inventory of native plants. Please consider supporting them, and remember them next spring when you’re ready to buy plants. They have been one the best places for gardeners and landscapers to find natives.
Resources
Plants Map - Paper Routes - Good Printed Things
A map I wrote featuring great places to buy plants locally here in Upstate, South Carolina. Illustrated by Charis JB.
The Uncomplicated Gardener - Good Printed Things
My zine sharing six steps I’ve learned over time that brought me success and joy growing and tending plants without overcomplicating things. Illustrated by Jennifer Bilton.
Oh Tiffany I am so sorry to hear about your boss and mentor. So much loss lately. Beautiful words as always.