The Color of September

If one were asked to name the colors of September,

answers would likely include oranges, yellows, and golds,

or reds ranging from burgundy to scarlet to vermilion.

But to me, the color of September is blue.

September in the Shire brings clear blue skies:

Not turquoise, not midnight blue, nor teal, nor robin's egg blue.

No, for me, the only blues that are emblematic of September

are lapis, French ultramarine, deep sky blue, Egyptian blue, or sapphire--

any blue that is saturated and pure without influences of yellow, red, or gray.

Like a lot of people, I probably got the idea that months have colors

by reading lists of birthstones and flowers by month.

I remembered that September's birthstone is sapphire 

and its flower is an aster, likely a clear blue aster.

Some lists include forget-me-nots and morning glories--both a rich blue.

But I read an interesting article in Wikipedia about birthstones.

The wikipedia article cites several sources, including those below.
They explain that the tradition of assigning gemstones to a month 

dates back to before the tenth century.

Bruce G. Knuth, author of Gems in Myth, Legend, and Lore (Revised Edition)

writes that in the original practice, devotees owned 12 gemstones,

one symbolizing each apostle or possibly one for each sign of the zodiac,  

and wore one each month.

Somewhere that practice evolved into each month being assigned its own gem.

Knuth also cites a 19th-century Hindu text, Mani Mala,

that listed birthstones by months.

In the Hindi tradition, the gem for September was zircon, 

which can be aquamarine blue or dark gold.

But a month's birthstone has not remained the same in Western culture. 

Over the centuries, a month's corresponding gemstone has changed repeatedly.

Up until the early part of the 20th century, 

the gem for September was alternately listed as peridot or topaz.

Sapphires were the gems for April.

George F. Kunz, author of The Curious Lore of Precious Stones 

says that sapphires were assigned to September 

by the National Association of Jewelers in 1912.

The Planetary Gemologists Association at

 http://www.p-g-a.org/planets.html

says that sapphire is the gemstone for the planet Saturn

because Saturn transmits cosmic energy through the gem.

In this regard, a sapphire-Saturn astral talisman can deflect envy,

avert dangerous influences, and protect one during travel.

The site recommends one wear the sapphire talisman on Saturdays

for two hours and forty minutes before the sun sets

and after reciting a mantra twenty-three times.

Well, I am intrigued.

It would be great if that were effective for curing one's ills.

My personal astrology chart shows Saturn rising, 

but the PGA web site warns that in such a case,
Saturn can sometimes cause stupidity. 

So in consideration of that, I'll forestall any further risk to my intellect

and refrain from trying the talisman ritual.

Enjoying the blue skies of September from here in the Shire 

will be cosmic energy enough for me.

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Joseph's Coat of Many Colors

I have been taking an accounting of plants and flowers 

that happily soaked up the heavy rains

that fell through much of August and early September here.

I would have expected the impatiens to be thriving since they like lots of water. 

But apparently they do not like this much,

for I have only 3 flowers blooming 

among what had been hundreds this spring.

The real winners have been a few herbs, the Boston ferns, creeping Jenny,

begonias, and most of all, my Joseph's Coat,

also called parrot leaf or calico plant.

The Joseph's Coat I have is the plant 

that my maternal grandmother potted for me when I left for college the first time. 

It has been tended by my family since that time, 

making it a plant that is well over fifty years old.

As near as I can tell, the variety my grandmother 

gave me is alternanthera ficoides;

but while I was researching that, 

I found it far easier to say what it is not, rather than what it is:

I wondered when or from whom my grandmother might have acquired it,
since she never explained its provenance.
 I thought I could at least find out a little general history of the plant;
for example, when alternanthera plants were
first brought to the US from South America.
But as is sometimes the case, I did not find much useful information.

On the other hand, I did come across what may prove to be a very interesting book:
Potted History: The Story of Plants in the Home, by Catherine Horwood.
Horwood has researched the history of keeping plants
inside the home for ornamental purposes.
I assumed this pastime began in the Victorian era,
but it appears the practice extends back to Roman times and before,
proving there is something irresistible about having plants nearby.
That predisposition may explain why people will keep a sickly houseplant
in their homes, refusing to give up on it even when it looks ready for the trash heap.

This spring one bare stalk of Joseph's Coat I had planted from a rooted cutting

looked completely inert and incapable of growth. 

I debated whether or not to toss it, but I thought I detected

the tiniest leaf pushing off from a stem.

And indeed it was.

Considering how lush and full it is today, I'm glad I gave it a chance

even though at times I felt that my tending one sickly looking stalk

was hopelessly optimistic.

That's one of the great things about Joseph's Coat--

it is persistent, a real survivor. 

Like its namesake Joseph from the Book of Genesis,

this little plant also prevails against all kinds of adversity

while arrayed in a coat of many colors.

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Snapdragons for September

Although asters are the official flower of September,

snapdragons have the advantage of outblooming asters 

into the first weeks of winter.

And with our long growing season here in the Shire,

snapdragons are a popular choice.

 English snapdragons of the early centuries were primarily a crimson and white bi-color, 

but the pale yellow ones appeared in gardens as early as the 16th century. 

Phillip Miller's 18th-century book The Gardener's Dictionary 

praises snapdragons for their ability to

"grow among stones, or the joints of old walls, 

where they may be placed so as to render 

some abject part of the garden very agreeable."

The Shire's excessive rain of recent weeks

has rendered many parts of my garden abject,

so I'm thinking of planting a few snapdragons this month.

I do love their old-fashioned quality, their cheerful ruffled blossoms,

and their whimsical name.
 Alice M. Coats tells us "snaps" at one time were called calf's snout,
a far less charming appellation.

The Better Homes and Gardens site at bhg.com

 says snapdragons got their better known name 

because is easy to snap the dragon-head shaped blossoms 

open and closed by squeezing their sides.

Well, that's interesting.

Flowers as puppets--the thought never occurred to me.

Planting snapdragon puppets in the year of the dragon,

a year known for bringing the unexpected, seems like a good idea.

If they grow, I might just have to snap a few.

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