07 September 2014

- a chill in the air -

I woke this morning to a sliver of sunshine creeping in the window through a crack in the curtains.   I smiled to myself knowing that today, at last, we could be friends because like a houseguest who has long overstayed their welcome - I know you will soon be leaving.

It is time for the seasons to change, for the days to shorten, the rains to begin and the air to finally cool - Autumn.

Autumn is a like a breath of fresh air - I welcome Autumn with open arms.  I always feel safe & cozy wrapped up tight in its shawl of morning fog and gray skies.  I will not be weary of it's drab colors and relentless rain for many, many weeks.  

As the days begin to cool - I will meet the fall garden armed with a trowel and coffee.  I know I have been neglectful but I will make it right and I will not once complain about the chill or the wet.  I will enjoy every dirty minute it.

The fall garden, not to be outdone by summer, has already begun to put on it's seasonal show; look upward or down deep amid the spent vines, weeds, or cold dirt and you will soon see a rainbow of pumpkin orange, butter yellow, fire engine red & shades of earth brown.  The colors of the fall gardens.   I love them all.

As my MS has progressed it has made summer in the garden almost intolerable due to the heat.  MS has  resulted in my body being unable to properly regulate its temperature.   The heat summer sun makes gardening very difficult and so I have learned to just be PATIENT and wait for fall to arrive.

I suppose I enjoy everything about Fall - I love seeing every breath I take,  the sight & sound of geese flying overhead on their way south, the sound of crunching leaves underfoot and the cool crisp air.  But what I love best of all about fall ... is the smell - it smells like Harvest,  fresh dug earth.  It smells like the farm.

I love to garden for many reasons but I think the greatest reasons of all is that for me, gardening is a living, breathing slideshow of my childhood, it is the caretaker of my past.

Cold, stiff, wet dirty fingers always open a floodgate of memories for me - not all of them good but all them are cherished and welcome. Mine to love, hate, enjoy, despise or eulogize as I wish, they are mine and mine alone.

So here's to fall in the garden, a chill in the air and childhood memories.

'We could never have loved the earth so well if we had had no childhood in it.' 
- George Eliot -

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garden thoughts ...

'I sit in my garden, gazing upon a beauty that cannot gaze upon itself. And I find sufficient purpose for my day.'
- Robert Brault -