The hostas are looking pretty tired about now. The summer was cooler and wetter than usual and much of the garden paid the price (tomato yield was especially unimpressive). Other plants in my garden are still lush and green, but not the hostas. They are ready for some rest. And though I'm not entirely ready to say goodbye to warm summer afternoons, the hostas are a little more in tune with Mother Nature. They sense a change in the air and are preparing to shut down for the fall and winter. It's hard to believe that the summer's thick, lush bed will soon be a dried patch of earth. But that's exactly what's coming. Before the year is out, I'll likely make a picture of this bed covered with snow.
I think that's what I love the garden so much. In the rapid growth and then the quiet slumber of the plants is a regular reminder of the pattern of life.
I’ve grown weary of the daily Trump ignorance and mysogyny. I think that the void in GOP leadership is terrifying for our nation. I like to read (I just finished Winston Graham’s The Angry Tide), garden, cook, and talk.
I love… jack-o-lanterns, Halloween decorations, Fall mums, cool mornings, black cats, witch hats & broomsticks, cheese trays, You Tube hair videos, Fall sweaters, watching JT cross the finish line, my teal coffee cup, planning treats, sunrises, sleeping with the windows open, good books, visits with family, Ken Burns documentaries, and the feel of a sweaty workout.