Autumn: A Welcome Respite for Me and My Garden!
Where I live in the lovely state of Washington, my summer gardening for "flying flowers" is now just a pleasant memory. But only until next year! Although my flowers bloomed ever so brightly throughout our long summer days, I practically begged them, "Please hang in there. . .just a little longer! It's too soon to fade and die! My stray butterflies still need your sweet nectar!"
And yet, as King Solomon of old said of all living things:
"For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven. . .a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted. . . ." [Ecclesiastes 3:1-2, The Holy Bible] .
Who am I to dispute King Solomon's sage words of wisdom? I have spent many days this year planting in season and also plucking up and pruning much of what I've planted. Now it's time for a brief respite from my labor, just as it's the season for my flowers, vines, shrubs and trees to be dormant for a time as they gain new strength from the soil for the year ahead.
My flowers, however, really did do their best to accommodate my pleas to bloom longer. For it was just a week ago that I cut my very last fragrant bouquet of roses for this season, placing them in a vase to adorn my table.
This lone exquisite Las Vegas tea rose burst into bloom in late September and continued to bloom on its long sturdy stem until the last week of October. From the ground to the tip of the blossom, this spectacular rose stood almost six feet tall--the height of our fence! Its brilliant color fairly glowed, and was a delight to see every morning against the gray-blue of the backyard fence.
Why is it that the last roses of summer are usually the most exquisite of the entire year? Could it be that they want to leave us with memories of their splendor and beauty, and the promise of yet another summer to come? I just happen to think so!
When I noticed the green leaves of my dogwood tree subtly changing from bright green to soft yellows, then finally to a magnificent deep red, I could no longer deny that summer had closed her door and autumn had opened hers. I gave a small cry of delight when I saw that our small birds had again found the bright red berries my dogwood tree produces every autumn. Watching them through my kitchen window as they strip these shiny berries with their tiny beaks is yet another of Nature's small joys. Very soon, there will be a thick carpet of red leaves at the base of my dogwood tree, reminding me of the colorful skirt I place beneath my decorated Christmas tree every year.
Latest Articles