There is this awkward end of life thing. And soon, for our viewing enjoyment, we will watch the death of all the plants we worked so hard to foster. Because autumn is coming. Unless you are someone living in the portion of our sweet planet where you are facing lovely spring! But I am up North and the gardens are going to seed and thinking of retiring. At least for a few long months.
I hate “last” things. The last blooms of summer, the last cucumber, the last day before your child goes off to college, the last time you drive your old car before trading it for something else. It is just sad and I hate sad. I try to avoid it. (Who’s in charge here anyway? Me.)
We shall refocus.
To fortify you against the coming losses, here is something in my garden that doesn’t change. Not a plant, but still.
This is Flora. (I name stuff.)
I thought I would grow something adorable in Flora’s basket but I found it was impossible to keep it from going dry and Flora carrying a dead plant was less than adorable so I leave it empty. (Next year, I’m thinking of shells & agates.) She has been here maybe three years now; she is a little less than life-size. When she first arrived in the garden Max barked and barked at her, odd for him. He couldn’t figure out if she was a person or what. (We still don’t know.)
Last spring I found Flora lying on her face on the ground. (I feared it was a case of depression.) It took Mr O and me both to lift her back to her feet, and other than a little dirt she appeared unharmed. Some shovel work revealed that a gopher had tunneled underneath her and undermined her stability. (It happens all of us at times.) So we squished everything back down and Flora was fine. She may have had a headache or something I don’t know but she looked okay.
I bought Flora with money made selling plants at a Saturday market one summer. I love statuary but really my casual gardens are hardly up to it. Still Flora has been assimilated by the ferns and the trees– she has taken on a bit of a green cast in places herself.
This is the view from the top of the painting scaffold on the east side of my house. The arrow points toward Flora– she is back under that little privat tree. On the ground you can see the afternoon shadow of the tall house. (This was taken in June when everything was green and not dying and deer-eaten and tired.)
OK those are all the positive words you get. Really I must complete the little remaining bit of house painting and get the basil pesto made and gather seeds and etc etc. I hate to mention it but I bet you need to do some stuff too… Chop the wood, patch your roof, conjugate your verbs! Fall is coming!