Can't deny it; it's fall. Although I was glad to see the temperatures cool slightly, I'm not looking forward to what lies ahead.
It was a blazing summer, for the most part. This summer was when I realized I am not a fan of temps above 82 degrees, and I'm DEFINITELY averse to high humidity. So I'm soaking up every minute of watching the leaves change and fall.
This year has been a year of change, as well. Careers have been on the forefront for my family: the coronavirus, of course, changed the course of study for local schools, and my Ellen is a teaching assistant at a local elementary, so you can imagine what is happening with her position. Marty - with six years of part-time janitorial experience under his belt - is applying for full-time positions. And Tommy embarked on his pursuit of a restaurant job by working at a local place very near our house. Technically, he's a dishwasher, but when I picked him up last night after work, he explained he also bused tables, prepped and served food, and pretty much did every other job there except cook! I'm proud he's not limiting himself.
Being shut in the house (kind of) due to the virus this year has led me to a deep dive into my house and yard. Starting in the spring, I explored parts of the woods I hadn't ventured into during our 20 years here. I was pleased to discover ephemera like trout lily and jack-in-the-pulpits right on my own property. As spring melted into summer, I appreciated the bloom cycles of the wildflowers.
An urge to add a flower garden to our front yard brought us to a local tree farm on Mother's Day, where we picked out a Seven-Son Flower tree that promises (eventually) a burst of late-summer blooms. We planted it opposite a Rose of Sharon my dad had given us years ago, then marked out an oval garden area between the two. Digging up 30+-year-old grass is not an easy task, and Jim and the boys did a great job with that heavy work. Marty and I then wheelbarrowed rocks from the back woods to ring the newly named island garden.
The problem was, how to fill it. My freelance budget precluded big purchases of perennials, and annuals were a waste of money. I did buy marigolds for my vegetable garden, so I planted what didn't fit up there around the edges of the island garden.
Luckily, a friend was culling sprouts of Obedient Plant, which I'd never heard of. But she promised abundant blooms of lavender flowers, so in went the Obedient Plant. After planting those, I turned and looked at the flowerbeds that snuggled against the front of our house. Hmmm, I thought: sedum, bee balm? Why not? I divided the plants and threw some divisions into the garden with a little prayer for their health.
Well, that garden answered my prayers.
Here's the garden as a baby. The Rose of Sharon is in the foreground, with a petunia (one of three that I broke down and paid for) above. The Seven-Son Flower is in the back.
Here's the garden today. Yes, I had to sheathe it in black plastic netting. Too many critters (even birds! Those little destructive buggers ate the petunias and pooped all over the garden) forced me to put the garden in "flower jail." Anyway, it's looking a little ratty. A hot summer (and, I admit, a little neglectful forgetfulness about watering) can do that to a garden.
It's almost time to cut back, divide, and clean up the plants for the season. As I rake and sweep and trim, I'll be grateful for the beauty that Nature has provided, and honored that I was able to contribute a little to that beauty. If nothing else, this growing season has shown me that things change, no matter how much we'd like to keep them the same. "To everything there is a season." We can plan for things, we can hope we will remain the same over the years, but the truth is, we won't. As a plant emerges, blooms, and dies back for a long sleep, so will we.
Our job, as we enter a more quiet season, is to recognize that we should bloom when we are able, for as long as we are able. And the burnishing of the leaves - and their descent from the trees that gave them birth - shows us that, as difficult as it may be, sometimes we can't hold onto things we think we need. It's just not in God's plan.
This quote is from "Anonymous." I think it's appropriate:
"Autumn shows us how beautiful it is to let things go."
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