every time i head out to the garden – this summer, last summer, ever – i vastly underestimate the amount of time a given task is going to take me. i think i’m heading out to weed for thirty minutes and it takes closer to ninety. i do this over and over again. yesterday was no exception.
home from a hike with our friends, i decided to clean up the garden before heading to the shower. my beautiful garden full of flowers is past its prime and the tall, drying stalks are looking depleted and sad this last week or two. with a clear sky above (last weekend’s excuse was the rain), and my hands and clothing somewhat dirty already from our hike, yesterday seemed like a good time to tackle the task. for thirty or so minutes. ahem.
it was over two hours. silly me. really, i should have a better sense of how long a job like that takes. but i seem oblivious to past gardening endeavors, past weeding tasks. each time i head out there it’s as if i’ve never done this kind of work before. clueless. naive. innocent and ever the beginner.
i’m not sad to see the flowers go. they were beautiful and i know there will be more next year. the tomatoes (just two plants this year) were incredible, and there will be more next year. i’m ready to put the garden to bed. i love (love, love) this time of year as nature quietly wraps things up and turns down the volume (in some ways). there’s an overall slowing down and quietness. and this totally reflects my spirit and my introverted demeanor.
cleaning up the garden yesterday was therapeutic and reflective and left me with dirty hands and clothes…in which i take delight as, they reflect the activity performed – be it hiking or gardening or painting or icing a cake. hands and stories go…well, hand in hand. i snipped some fresh sprigs of rosemary. pulling weeds (yes there were weeds to pull yesterday…how did i not count on that?) was less disagreeable as i knelt alongside the rosemary. one of my favorite scents. ever? yes, i think ever. i brought the sprigs indoors to enjoy. such a lovely bridge from the summer into the colder days we’re now experiencing (because, you know, they remind me of christmas tree boughs).
and the garden gifted me one last bouquet…cosmos. i couldn’t believe there were some left for cutting. and so i share them here with you too. they feel slightly odd to me on our kitchen table…so summery when everything around me feels chilly and autumnal. but how could i refuse such a gift? these are the last of summer’s bounty. and now it’s time to rest.
dear garden, well done and thank you. i’ll see you in the spring.
and p.s. i loved you so much this year.
sending a little love your way, m
4 thoughts on “dear garden”
: ) your sweet letter to your garden made me smile. what a lovely tribute.
Thank you for this, dear M. Oh what a beautiful way to start the day. As usual, I’m smiling and nodding my head in agreement. I love your love of flowers and of this time of year. I, too, am relishing this season of winding down and looking inward.
Just as you wrote to your garden, I write to you: well done and thank you…
P.S. (Our cosmos are still blooming here, too, and the zinnias as well! Can you believe it?!)
Your gift of words always gets me-like when you said “nature quietly wraps things up” it’s the stuff great writers are made of-your choice of words always evoke an emotion in me. You have a gift my friend…a gift of words.
We always have a place to call paradise, yours seems to be your garden!