Our garden remains full of flowers.
Some, like Allysum, have bloomed since we set them out in early April. Others, like our Camellias, have only just begun their season.
I’m grateful to our faithful annuals which have soldiered on, month after month, covering themselves in flowers. If the weather never shifted, I wonder how long they would go on….
But we are in that unpredictable time of transition from heat to cold.
It was nearly 80 yesterday. But the nights grow cold. We’ve already needed to turn the heat on a few times this season.
Frost may come any time now; or it may wait until sometime in December to pay its first call.
We’ve prepared the permanent winter shelter for our pots and baskets. I’ve swept the garage and spread the holding area in plastic tablecloths.
New this year is a line of buckets, also sitting on plastic, ready to hold then hanging baskets when I bring them in on Saturday.
The forecast promises night time lows in the 40s by the weekend….
Procrastination stays my hand each time I think to move them all inside.
They grow so beautifully in this Indian summer.
I want to wait as long as possible, giving them every sunny day I can.
And now each warm day, each warm night, is acknowledged as a gift. Each new blossom savored. Each bee and butterfly blessed.
Even as the solid green of a Virginia summer gives way to crimson and yellow, brown and orange; we see the daily changes quietly creeping through the garden.
Autumn rolls into our garden like a great, relentless wave.
We hear it in the early morning calls of geese and the chatter of flocking starlings.
We smell it in the wet Earth.
We feel the sharpness of early morning when we first go outside, and see skeletons of trees appearing here and there, leaves blown away in the night.
Photos by Woodland Gnome 2014