The End of Summer Garden at Dusk

We went into town today and didn’t come home until late afternoon. After all the putting away and cleaning up and eating dinner was all done, I went outside. My aim was to sweep the pathways that I’d forsaken in the last two days after a heavy rain and chicken deconstruction.

Slowly and surely I trudged my achy bones into sweeping mode and began the tedious task that’s easier in the beginning of the day, when my energy levels are higher. But it was good being outside in the stillness of the much-loved greenery, without any disturbances from the flock that were on their way to bed. So I captured a few of the bright beauties that are still looking presentable and saw that in the last few days the flowerbeds have lost their essence and are well on the way to fading. This has happened rather quickly and this year they never reached the pinnacle of abundance as in prior years. There was just too much rain, too little heat and almost no sun for them to really take off. But I still was thrilled with whatever they showed me although much of it was attacked viciously by fungi and white moths and aphids and naughty chickens. So this year’s bounty has been a bit sparse.

On top of that the wild birds seem to be finishing off the reddening tomatoes from the vines. They never have done this before and there are plenty of other delicacies on the trees for them to eat. So that’s a big problem at the moment that we intend to fix tomorrow, somehow. I suggested we rig some sort of cover over them at night since they seem to do their damage in the wee hours of the morning before we’re even out of bed. This problem will be solved in one way or another and that will make up for the sudden deterioration of the giant cabbages that are more like Swiss cheese now.

But anyway, the flowers I snapped with my handy dandy phone camera are lovely. And the time I spent outside raking, sweeping, cutting and inspecting the flowers was the sweetest part of my day so far. It calms my soul to be in the garden even when it’s messy and overgrown and under-maintained.

I really couldn’t bear to live without my garden to tend. It’s my connection to God.