They put their glories all behind them...
"It's a pity we don't know
What the little flowers know.
They can't face the cold November
They can't take the wind and snow.
They put their glories all behind them,
Bow their heads and let it go,
But you know they'll be there shinin'
In the morning......
Gordon Bok, his song:Turning Toward the Morning
The following appeared in the November 1995 edition of Lady Barbara's Garden Journal
"They were freezing in my hands as I touched them. I was searching for flowers and cutting cold stems. The leaves were already getting that vacant, transparent look that said that the frost was taking them, even as I worked.
I was hunting for the last nasturtium flowers, and this was the only time I would ever harvest the buds for pickling, just before a frost, but I never expected it to be so sad. The leaves didn't have that wonderful defiant squeakiness they had all summer. They were very, very quiet. The great billows of foliage that rallied so beautifully with all the fall rain and cooler temperatures weren't letting the young flowers beneath them know what was happening. It was one of the saddest things I've ever done in a garden - they were freezing in my hands.
Later I sat in the kitchen and looked at the incredibly beautiful fall-leaf-colored flowers in a jar and started to cry for the ones outside that would be all black and soggy by morning. I've always hated the real killing frost, when you wake up and all the annuals have dissolved into blackened soggy heaps, but I've never gotten so close to it. I've never felt it happening in my hands. I should be so gracious when it's my time, just bow my head and let it go.....
While sitting here weeping over the passing of nasturtiums, there's a knock on my door and there's 5 year old Erin bearing potato/leek soup from her Mom's kitchen upstairs. Wow.
OK, I've got it, the passing of nasturtiums should be celebrated with potato/leek soup. What unbelievably comforting stuff. Ah yes, it should be a bank holiday with dancing and singing. We should all go out and read the nasturtiums a story, kiss them goodnight and come in and make SOUP. Now we've got a meaningful holiday. A Holy Day.
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