Tonight the temperature is supposed to get down to well below freezing. This pretty much will mean the end of my garden for the year. I love autumn, and the color show it brings, but I’ll miss the splendor of summer. Nature creates more beauty with her handiwork than I could ever hope to. (She is the true artist-I simply make the arrangements-flower beds being my “bouquets.”)
After winter ends, and my thoughts turn to spring, my garden is a little like a stranger to me, or an acquaintance I haven’t seen in a long time. I don’t remember clearly how things were, or I have just forgotten. But by the end of summer my garden is like an old and dear friend. I know it intimately. And I know that saying farewell will be hard.
In an attempt to save a little bit of summer for just a little bit longer, my daughter Amy and I have been gathering the last of the flowers-we have picked enough for five vases so far.
It won’t be long before the snow comes, and covers my garden with a white winter blanket. (My garden deserves to have a good long rest.) But spring will come. The snow will melt. And I’ll be outside saying “It’s been a while, but it’s so good to see you again…”
It won’t be long before the snow comes, and covers my garden with a white winter blanket. (My garden deserves to have a good long rest.) But spring will come. The snow will melt. And I’ll be outside saying “It’s been a while, but it’s so good to see you again…”