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 am determined to fight for good in 2018. First up: It’s time for Donald Trump to go. I like to read (I just finished Julie Otsuka’s When the Emperor was Divine), garden, cook, and talk.
I love… my big stack of books-to-be-read, garden catalogs, planning history projects for 7th graders, hand-written notes, fresh calendars, soft winter scarves, polka dots, glimmers of hope, laughter, playing card games, morning sunlight, fleece gloves, Winter walks, magnolia trees, ivy, amaryllis bulbs, cozy throw blankets, HGTV, and the deep sleep I get after a good workout.