Tuesday, October 17, 2023

And so it goes...

On a chilly morning this week, Beau and I spent a few hours doing autumn chores in the garden. On the day in question, I needed a woolly hat and warm gloves, and the collar of my tatty (but delightfully warm) old jacket was turned up against the north wind. Beau was decked out in his natty blue tartan coat with its fleecy lining and glad to be wearing it.

There is always so much to be done at this time of the year, removing annuals that have succumbed to the season, pruning shrubberies back and covering roses for the winter, pulling out veggies past fruiting and turning over the good dark earth for the next go around. This was not a good year for tomatoes by any means, but there are trays of green toms ripening on the old oak table in the dining room. 

When I looked up from my labours, I noticed that one maple in the garden has already lost its leaves, and blue sky is now visible in places where it was concealed by the tree canopy just last week. Crab spiders no longer lurked among the roses, and the fall asters that hosted throngs of bees, bumbles, and wasps a few days ago have gone to seed. Not a single little sister was dancing about in the faded purple and gathering nectar. 

Kales and culinary herbs in the veggie patch are hanging in for the time being, but no doubt about it, another growing season is fast coming to an end. Planting garlic (the Music and Nootka Rose varieties) and more crocus bulbs in the next few days will assuage our melancholy a bit, but we (Beau and I) are already missing the garden that kept us hopping happily about all summer.

Late autumn is my favorite time of the year, but the passing of summer's companions always tugs at my heartstrings, and I particularly miss the bumble girls when they have passed away, and their dear, fuzzy little bodies have returned to the earth. Yesterday I thanked them for their company and wished their new queens well in hibernation.

As I pulled out withered tomato vines later in the afternoon and consigned them to the compost bin, it was difficult not to feel like a traitor, and I hoped my once leafy friends forgave me for abandoning them in their dotage.

When we came back indoors after our toing and froing, the deck overlooking the garden was ankle deep in fallen gold and scarlet leaves, and that cheered us up immensely. Autumn's glorious coinage is something to crow about.


Blondi Blathers said...

As much as I hate to see summer be gone, there is a little thrill I get while watching the oak leaves drift past my front windows. And to see the bare tree limbs again ... I can almost look forward to the sparkling snow that will arrive any day now.

Tabor said...

I like the rhythm of the seasons even if it means the warmer weather is gone and all plants are being put to bed.