Frost covers everything this morning though it’s not cold enough to freeze the water in the watering bowls set out for those of fur and feather.
The persistent wind has calmed so the old, giant maples, chestnuts, walnuts, fir, spruce and pine are not creaking in protest and the attic doors are not threatening against the hook locks.
The tiny heater tries so hard to warm the air in my room without success. This is winter (almost) in this old house. The furnace heats the first two floors though we can feel the air seeping in through the closed windows. We are grateful for this old house that shelters us.
Solstice approaches bringing longer days but colder months. I welcome the barrenness, the shades of grey. Though Winter settles in, Spring holds promises of life just below the surface and thrusts swords of iris and sprouts of crocus out of the mud and the brave honeysuckle shows tender green buds on seemingly dead and hardened vines.
There is no guilt in rest this time of year. Follow me says the earth, follow me.
This was a weird summer for annual flowers in my yard. We planted lots and lots of annuals to add color to the ever thriving perennials, like all of the shade plants like hostas and ferns and Japanese grasses, rhododendrons, azaleas and mosses and succulents, besides the sun loving roses and lilies, berries, lavender, sage, rosemary thyme… you know.
The 5 ancient maple trees suffered the most in our two waves of unbearable heat, while all the while, doing their best to keep us cool. They will survive unless this drought keeps it up.
Oh, and I can’t forget, as usual we had a major display of kiwi blossoms but no fruit. I know, I know, male and female but now we can’t “bear” to separate these two gigantic specimens who are apparently happy being childless and just hanging out together in their splendor.
But back to the geraniums and fushias and begonias. The pansies and lobelia did fine, but what happened to the firework flowers of, red, pink, orange and fushia colored blossoms? They made a weak showing but nothing to make me dream of Italian cobbled streets lined with terra cotta pots festooned and overflowing with bright geraniums.
And what of my favorites, the begonias? The squirrels, crows and raccoons kept digging up their bulbs, so they at least had an excuse. The sticks, twine, and stones were not a deterrent. Three of my bulbs survived and bravely produced nothing more than some bedraggled and chewed upon leaves. I’m used to big, thick and juicy stems struggling under the weight of giant blossoms of every color and humongous leaves shading those seemingly delicate flowers… but nary a blossom.
Two shy, late-bloomers
That brings me to these two shy fushias blossoms. They didn’t show up until the party was almost over. Of all the fushias invited to the garden, only these two came appropriately dressed… but too little too late. But I have to say that they are welcome, nonetheless. The days are dark, wet and a little cool for such attire, but they made the photo shoot afterall.
Thank you for coming dear fushias. Our party this year was a bit under attended, which makes each guest this year that much more precious.
Here we are in autumn with its own special beauty. Bye, bye summer. We’ll dream of you and wait to buy more geraniums, fushias and begonias next year. We’ll hope for a better showing of bright and exciting blossoms. You are always welcome in the garden.
eyeamdust 