September 25, 2012
September mornings are beyond "cool', and at sunrise, skies are precisely the hue of a robin's egg with a touch of gold and vibrant mauve thrown in for good measure. Below, my roses offer the last magnificent blooms of the season, and the crinkly Autumn Joy sedum is moving from silvery green to rose and thence to a deep autumn burgundy.
I prowl the garden watching the slow early movements of the awakening bumble bees and know with a touch of sadness that one of these mornings we will awaken to frost, and there will be no more female "bumbles" enacting their buzzing nectar dance in the garden behind the little blue house in the village. Their already mated queen will sleep out the winter underground and mother a new community in the spring, but the merry sisterhood who graced our garden all summer long will have passed away and returned to the earth.
As I move from plant to plant this morning, I bend and thank them, each and every one.