Extension Master Gardener Volunteers of Durham County

By Gary Crispell, NC State Extension Master Gardener ^SM volunteer of Durham County (aka the Accidental Cottage Gardener)

November. The ninth month of the year, right? Well, it was until a couple of Roman egos got in the way. I reckon they wanted to be remembered as balmy and pleasant and that’s why they didn’t just tack July and August on to the end of the year. Egos—bleh.

So, it is the eleventh month and should probably be Elvember. Named after the elves who live under all the mushrooms we would see if it should rain. You remember rain, right? No? It’s that wet stuff that used to fall out of the sky. (Not snow! That’s COLD and wet and much less desirable.)

November is also a month of holidays. We start with election day, then Veteran’s Day (thank you for your service, fellow vets), after which we have Thanksgiving for four days in the middle of which is Black Friday. Oh, yes, it is a holiday. You ask my Aunt Helen.

A vibrant flower garden featuring an array of colorful blooms, including zinnias and yellow flowers, surrounded by greenery and rocks, under a clear blue sky.

Accidental Cottage Garden border going strong as the end of the year approaches. (Image credit: Gary Crispell)

The Accidental Cottage Garden (ACG) looks pretty darn good considering we’re in month 14 (less July) of a drought and it’s November. Perennial gardens aren’t supposed to look bright and perky in November. Many of the perennials in the ACG have succumbed to the change in day length (the diurnal effect) and will reappear in the Spring. There are a few stout souls who refuse to be defined by day length or drought, for that matter.

A garden area featuring a mix of flowering plants with yellow and pink blooms, adjacent to a blue house.

More Accidental Cottage Garden borders still flowering even as they start to senesce. (Image credit: Gary Crispell)

The hardy ageratum or mist flower (Conoclinum coelestinum) has been spectacular this year. It has managed to fill the right-of-way ditch in front of the house. African marigolds (Tagetes erecta) have competed with the ageratums to see which one can cover the most square feet. Ageratum is ahead by a quarter of a ditch. Both plants will have to be reined in next year. My most dependable friend in the garden is the gallardia (Gallardia pulchella). It starts blooming in mid-June and it is still hard at it. They will continue until a killer frost bursts all their cell walls.

A cluster of yellow wildflowers growing near a rocky area surrounded by trees.

Swamp sunflower (Helianthus angustifolia) in the Accidental Cottage Garden. (Image credit: Gary Crispell)

The other long-blooming plant still kicking is black-eyed susan (Rudbeckia hirta). We love the variety of yellow/brown/black combinations they display. If you are really into yellow, have I got a plant for you. Swamp sunflower (Helianthus angustifolia). She is YELLOW!! And she is tall (6-8’). There’s a stalk or six rough goldenrod (Solidago rugosa) still showing color, but the stars of the circus have been the annual (prolific re-seeders!) zinnias (Zinnia elegans) and cosmos (Cosmos bipinnata) that I sowed seeds for in May. They have been the proverbial riot of color since August. We have had continuous cut flower arrangements all Summer and Fall.

A vibrant garden filled with colorful flowers, including zinnias in shades of pink and orange, against a backdrop of trees and a clear blue sky.

Many colors of zinnias (Zinnia elegans) providing blooms into November. (Image credit: Gary Crispell)

I guess I have prattled on about long enough. I suppose you are reading this to find out what can/should/might be done in the garden in poor misnamed month (in the middle of four misnamed months). Here ‘tis.

LAWN CARE

Leaf removal is job #1. If your lawn consists of warm season grass (Bermuda, zoysia, centipede), that’s about all you need to know. These grasses will soon be going dormant not to be heard from until spring.

Should you have cool season grass (tall fescue, bluegrass, perennial rye) you are still mowing (3”-4”) and either bagging or mulching clippings and leaves (preferably the latter). Bagged debris should be composted. The landfill doesn’t need them.

If you overseeded or started a new lawn, be sure it gets ½” of water twice a week at a minimum.

FERTILIZING

Pretty much zilch here. You can add lime to correct a low pH (<6.0) at a rate indicated on the SOIL TEST results you received from NCDOA. (Come on! They’re still free until the end of the month, y’all.) Lime is best incorporated into the soil as it doesn’t move through the soil to the root zone very well.

PLANTING

Have I ever mentioned “FALL IS FOR PLANTING” before?

Trees and shrubs can be transplanted this month.

It is not too late to plant spring-flowering bulbs (daffodils, tulips, crocuses, etc.) but try to complete this task before the end of the month.

One-year-old asparagus crowns can be transplanted now.

PRUNING

Ahh, the perennial garden. Any day now, if it hasn’t happened already, Jack Frost or his insidious sibling Harriet Hardfreeze will drop in for a visit and finish any destruction not previously inflicted by Minerva Moisturestress. After that you need to ignore what your grandmother told you about cutting back the dead stems. There may well be native solitary bees or other beneficial insect eggs in or on those stems. Leave them, please. Try to overcome your OCD (I did. Well, not yours. My own.) and think of them as winter interest.

A close-up image of a shiny black bee perched on a wooden stump, surrounded by blurred green foliage.

Small carpenter bee nesting in sumac stem. (Image credit: Heather Holm)

Dead or diseased wood can be trimmed from trees and shrubs. When removing entire branches make the pruning cuts at the outer edge of the branch collar (the flair at the base of the branch) to promote quicker healing.

It is a good time to clean up the rest of the garden and landscape in general. You can yank weeds and other undesirable plants (the definition of a weed) and toss ‘em in the compost pile.

SPRAYING

If you’ve been doing battle with lace bugs all summer hit ‘em with a good dose of horticultural oil and put the sprayer away…well, clean it first, of course. (Might I suggest moving the offending azaleas to a less sunny location in the yard. They are an understory plant and are stressed when in full sun thereby inviting the lace bugs which prefer stressed plants. That’s your cause-and-effect lesson for this month.)

OTHER ENTERTAINING, ENLIGHTENING AND ENCHANTING ENDEAVORS TO ENJOY IN PIEDMONT NORTH CAROLINA IN AUTUMN

Take a leaf hike in your neighborhood or local park.

Make a leaf pile for your kids or grandkids to play in.

Invite the neighbors over for an evening around the firepit. Hot cider and donuts are not optional.

Enjoy the last few user-friendly days of 2026. They are numbered at this point.

May you have a wondrous Thanksgiving shared with people you love.

Resources and Additional Information

Provide Nesting Habitat for Native Bees Through Plant Stems in Your Garden: By NC Extension Agent of Chatham County, Debbie Roos
Build a Bug Snug Durham EMG blog on supporting insects over winter in the garden
General Pruning techniques: Pruning Trees and Shrubs from NCSU

Edited by Astrid Cook Dail, NC State Extension Master Gardener^SM volunteer of Durham County

By Marcia Kirinus NC State Extension Master Gardener ^SM volunteer of Durham County

Images by Marcia Kirinus unless otherwise noted.

If Halloween is your thing, you need this plant in your garden. Its stalk is mottled like snakeskin, its flower is dark and dramatic, and the whole thing smells like death.

Ten years ago, a friend gave me a small, dried-out corm and told me to plant it in a protected spot with dappled sunlight. So I did. I planted it on the north side of the house, where it gets an hour or two of sun just before sunset.
Every year since, an interesting stalk patterned like snakeskin has emerged, followed by one giant leaf that unfurls like a giant umbrella. It has always been the drama queen of the garden.

Several bulbous root vegetables with sprouting shoots and exposed roots, placed on a metal mesh surface.

A tall green plant with fern-like leaves growing in a lush garden, surrounded by various other plants and greenery.

Left: The corms of Amorphophallus sp. Right: The umbrella-like foliage of Amorphophallus rises above a mottled, snakeskin-patterned stalk. The dramatic foliage is a garden spectacle in its own right, even when the plant isn’t blooming.

As temperatures cooled in the fall, it was one of the first plants to die back. My instructions were to lift the corm after the foliage died, but I never bothered. Instead, I added mulch each year to protect it through the winter. By now, the corm is probably buried fairly deep in the ground.

I believe my plant is Amorphophallus konjac, commonly known as voodoo lily or devil’s tongue. It is native to East Asia and has long been cultivated for its starchy corm, which is processed to make konjac flour and konnyaku, a traditional Japanese food. The raw corm is not edible because it contains irritating calcium oxalate crystals and must be properly processed before consumption.

A. konjac grows well for NC Piedmont gardeners, and is one of the easier species to grow. NC State Extension lists it as hardy in USDA Zones 6a through 11.

Close-up view of a dark burgundy flower with a long spadix surrounded by green foliage and colorful flowers.

The dark, ruffled bloom of Amorphophallus konjac is striking to look at, but it smells like rotting meat when it is fully ‘ripe’.

The Genus

Amorphophallus is a genus of roughly 200 species of plants in the arum family (Araceae), the same family as jack-in-the-pulpit, calla lily, and philodendron. The genus is native primarily to tropical and subtropical regions of Africa and Asia, extending into Australasia. Its name comes from Greek words meaning “misshapen” and “phallus,” a reference to the unusual shape of its central flowering structure.

I was already familiar with this genus, which includes Amorphophallus titanum, the titan arum, famous for producing the world’s largest unbranched inflorescence. These spectacular plants can reach more than eight feet tall, and botanical gardens often invite the public to visit when one blooms. The opportunity to see – and smell – one is a rare event.

A large, blooming titan arum flower displayed in a greenhouse, surrounded by attendees who are observing and photographing it.

Amorphophallus titanum, commonly called the corpse flower, in bloom at the North Carolina State University Plant Collection Greenhouse. This species has one of the largest flower structures in the plant kingdom. (Image credit: Dee Shore)

Having experienced that spectacle before, I decided to invite my own neighborhood to smell my much smaller version when, to my delight, I noticed that it was sending up a flower structure instead of its usual leaf stalk. This was the first time it had bloomed in the ten years I had grown it, a sign that the corm had finally reached flowering size. Instead of an eight-foot giant like A.titanum, mine was a more modest four feet tall, typical of A. konjac.

A person holding a large, dark purple plant in a garden, with a light blue wooden house in the background.

In comparison to A. titanum, A. konjac, (above) is much less dramatic. The entire structure (inflorescence) stands four feet tall which is typical for A. konjac. It lasts only a few days before the whole thing withers. It will not send anything above ground for the rest of the year.

Ten Years in the Making

The corm is the engine of the plant. It stores energy underground, then sends up either a single leaf or flower each year, never both at once. The leaf looks like an umbrella atop a mottled, snakeskin-patterned stalk and is the form most gardeners see. The flower structure appears only when the corm has grown large enough. After ten years, mine was finally ready for its big debut.

Amorphopallus konjac’s Big Debut:

When the flower structure emerged, I announced it on my neighborhood listserv. Then I taped a sign in the middle of the street that read, “Look at Me, Smell Me,” and chalked arrows up the driveway so visitors could easily find it.

A notice describing an Amorphophallus species (Voodoo Lily) with an invitation to smell, mentioning its pollination process by insects and instructing to follow arrows.

A driveway with chalk arrows leading towards a garden, featuring two people examining the area. There is a sign in the foreground with pink borders.

After announcing the bloom on our neighborhood listserv, I taped a sign in the street guiding neighbors to the stinky A.konjac.

For the first two days, finding it wasn’t a problem. You could follow your nose right to the plant. The entire area smelled like rotting meat, and getting close to the bloom was almost unbearable. Neighbors came by for days, describing the odor as rotting fish, spoiled meat, or wet garbage. It was a stinky but fun neighborhood botanical event.

Why Smell Like That?

The odor is a pollination strategy, not an accident. Amorphophallus blooms can mimic the smell of rotting meat to attract carrion-seeking insects, including flies and beetles. The dark maroon color, powerful odor, and heat produced by the spadix work together to lure potential pollinators.

The tiny flowers are hidden near the base of the spadix, inside the spathe. In some species, insects are temporarily trapped within the flower structure. The female flowers become receptive first, allowing insects carrying pollen from another plant to pollinate them. The male flowers release pollen later, when the female flowers are no longer receptive, helping prevent self-pollination.

In nature, this timing encourages insects to carry pollen between plants. Here in North Carolina, where a gardener may have only one plant, producing seeds is more complicated. Hand pollination is necessary, and successful seed production depends on having fresh pollen available at the right time.

A man kneeling next to a unique flower, examining it closely in a garden setting.

Neighbor Kyler giving A. konjac a big sniff. When the bloom is older, as this one is, the scent fades. However you can still get the essence of it when you get close and personal.

Anatomy of the Bloom

What looks like one enormous flower is actually an inflorescence made up of two main structures: the spathe and the spadix. The tiny, individual flowers are clustered near the base of the spadix, hidden inside the spathe.

Spathe: The dark maroon, ruffled structure surrounding the base. It is a modified leaf, not a petal. On my plant, it was glossy and wine-colored on the inside, rimmed with black and a wavy edge.
Spadix: The tall, tapering spike rising from the center. Its upper, sterile portion, called the appendix, helps produce and release the odor. On my plant, the spadix stood approximately 2.5 feet tall and had a rough, wrinkled surface.
Hidden flowers: The tiny true flowers sit in separate zones near the bottom of the spadix, inside the spathe. The female flowers are at the bottom, with the male flowers immediately above them.
Stalk: The mottled green-and-brown stalk supporting the flower structure. Its snakeskin-like pattern is one of the plant’s most distinctive features and can also be seen on the stalk that supports its umbrella-like leaf.

An illustration of a flowering plant, showing the spathe and spadix, with a close-up of male and female flowers inside.

Anatomy of the Inflorescence of Amorphophallus. (Image credit: The California Museum of Science)

A Fitting Halloween Flower

The voodoo lily is a fitting reminder that gardens can be strange as well as beautiful. Spending much of its life underground or displaying an elegant umbrella of foliage, it one day surprises the patient gardener by sending a towering, foul-smelling flower that gets the whole neighborhood talking. Between the dramatic appearance, stink and the parade of curious neighbors, this is a plant that earns its keep because of its sheer weirdness.