The Five Seasons
Dark
Never-ending
cold. The sidewalks are slippery. I hate having to be careful!
Snow is
forecast ten days from now. They've been right sometimes. I'll scatter some
soil amendments on the beds before then, so they'll soak in slowly as the snow
melts.
Plenty of
time to update garden maps using last year's changes. Drawn with Microsoft
Paint, then printed for reference.
Arranging
photos of flowers, herbaceous beds, and fall colors can take days. Some even
make the cut and wind up on the web. The garden didn't really look that
good? It must have been a Photoshop trick.
Deer eating
the azaleas? NO! Bambi must die!
The dark
months, after the leaves have been picked up, are the time to get acquainted
with your house's interior. The living room, kitchen, bedroom, bath. Got it.
Stuck inside.
Another two
months of this? Get me out of here!
Bright
The point.
The full year of work comes to this: great looking flowers.
Standing
among them in the early morning, steam slowly spinning skyward from my personal
coffee cup, shoes shiny with dew, nowhere else in the world matches this. Later
in the day, visitors will enjoy the scene. Did I pick up all the dead leaves? I
wish they were here Tuesday when that 'Amoenum' looked great!
“Kodak
Moments”, toothy grins spread wide. Less clichéd when in front of a bright wall
of flowers than during other seasons.
Is that
yellow bird fan-dancing through the leaves a Kentucky Warbler or a
Yellowthroat? But, I know where my bird book is.
Trees and
grass show off a light green. The sun is warm and plans develop unhurried by
distracting insects or cold winds. No rush. It seems this could last forever.
Couldn't be
better!
Thick
Pushing
through dense air and vegetation.
Bug repellent,
headbands, and hoses.
I'm holding
on in the face of extreme heat and drought, continuing into the next day, and
the next, and … some herbaceous plants are giving up and collapsing. A few
small plants in pots leave this vale of tears. Where do they go? Should that be
“this veil of tears?”
Main
activities: dragging hoses all over the yard, mixing dirt for new beds, and
top-dressing old ones later.
Trees and
grass settle into dark green.
Ah, some
summer flowers are showing off: daylilies, mimosa, milkweed. Butterflies are
getting attention. I forget how to tell the Spicebush Swallowtail from the dark
morphed Tiger Swallowtail. But, I know where the butterfly book is.
Scratching
bites. Where'd that poison ivy rash come from?
Ahhhh (Finally)
Temperatures
tick lower. Mosquito clouds thin.
I work in my
undershirt without defending against bugs or cold. Neighbors look the other
way.
The best
time of year for planting and transplanting.
Dreaming of
next year. We'll expand that bed and top-dress the other. Do I want to start a
new bed by the fence now? Leave it 'til later?
Fall asters
and sedum are still attracting butterflies.
Dragonflies!
Is that an Eastern Pondhawk or a Slaty Skimmer? But, I know where the dragonfly
book is.
Tree leaves
surviving, a little worn and bug-bitten. Grass browning.
Brown
The
world turns brown, up and down.
Still
planting and transplanting. Give the roots time to settle in and feed.
Raking and
making. Leaves turn into compost, which turns into top-dressing for beds.
Is that leaf
from a Pin Oak or a Spanish Oak? But, I know where my tree book is.
New life
amid the old strife: arum and rohdea japonica start to grow in the cool winds,
to die back the next summer, now sharing the newly thinned beds with erect
hellebores. Are those really crocus and daffodil shoots expanding above the
surface?
Flashes of
orange and red. That's why I grow Japanese Maples. And some of the azalea
leaves are blazing red and yellow. Wow, that sky is really blue!
And Again … Dark
A new season
of cold and stasis wraps around the calendar, and into my mind, pushing me back
through the door, to room temperatures echoing the African savanna I was
created for.
Will this
cold wind never end?
Fade to
Dark.
