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.
Just when I think Donald Trump can’t be more disgraceful, he manages to be worse. Living in hope is a challenge with this government in charge and yet I will persist. I like to read (I just finished Elena Ferrante’s My Brilliant Friend), garden, cook, and talk.
I love… fireflies at twilight, lanterns with tiny lights, my freshened front porch, laughter, air conditioning, visits to my fairy garden, tomato blooms, flower bouquets, tiny zinnia flowers, antique Mason jars, striped t-shirts, iced tea, summer’s relaxation, a pile of books to be read, chambray napkins, supper on the back deck, sleeping in, birds chirping, backyard bunnies, cutting the grass, and the sweaty feel of a good workout.