The garden typically has a tired and haggard appearance in early autumn. As I look out the window, I realize it looks down right pathetic this year. For the first time ever, I allowed the critters to triumph. I raised the flag of surrender over a month ago and abandoned the garden to take on the far easier task of deconstructing the guest bedroom to convert it into a nursery for the baby. Had I not this diversion, the story would have had a different ending. The battle would still be raging, and I would be a sad shadow of a woman-a crazed lunatic rooting around in the soil, muttering to myself, pausing only occasionally to unleash violent, curse-laden tirades against the gophers and other rodents molesting the garden.
I needed a far more peaceful summer this year, and by the grace of the Great Mother, there is still a fair amount of plants standing in the garden, albeit hanging on for dear life, and they do now require my attention to prepare them for winter.
Although there were a few hopeful green tomatoes and peppers hanging on the vine, I cleared the entire veggie garden just before our trip to the city. With the exception of a few asters and our native California fuchsias which are still in bloom, all of the herbaceous perennials have been cut back. I've collected seed from all of the annuals, and the spent plants have been transferred to the compost pile.
I still need to mulch all of the roses and tender perennials that are in the ground, and the big job ahead is moving all of the plants in ceramic pots into the garage for the winter. The ceramic will crack with the freezing and thawing of snow, and the majority of the plants I have growing in those containers are not winter hardy. (I just can't let go of some of my tropical favorites!)
I'm actually looking forward to an early winter so that I can hide my shame under a thick blanket of snow...Will someone please remind me of this next spring when I'm begging the snow to melt, and I'm obsessively sprouting seeds prematurely, eager for another season of gardening to begin?
A persistent rose blossom...
Eastern Redbud 'Forest Pansy'
Ah sweetie! By spring time, you'll be much too busy tending to a new "little sprout" of your own. The garden may just have to wait for another season - then you and sprout can experience the wonder together. Frank used to carry Summer (our granddaughter) all around the large gardens we had in the Sierras. He'd encourage her touch all the plants, smell them, and tell her all about them. She grew with such a love and tenderness for growing/living things - that I can't help but believe that her early "gardening" with her Papa was the source.
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