Through the Year

  

    My tent stands in a garden

Of Aster and golden-rod,

   Tilled by the rain and sunshine,

And sown by the hand of God,-

   An old New England pasture

Abandoned to peace and time,

   And by the magic of beauty

Reclaimed to the sublime. . .

Seems like we hardly had a summer. The weather had been cool, somewhat, through August, with nights down in the 50's. Great sleeping weather, but not what we usually have. No heat wave in August, either. But now it's September and the warm weather has returned.  Not much rain, either, but the gardens are still producing. And the weeds are still going strong. I swear they pop up - and are huge - overnight. This is the fifth time I have weeded the bricks in my sensory garden.

As so often happens at this time of year, I have been up to my ears in plant sales, annual meetings and growing my business. Add to that my continuing issues with my recent knee surgery, and you have a recipe for complete and utter chaos. Hopefully I will be back to normal soon.

He that plants trees loves others besides himself - Thomas Fuller

paw paw flower

PAW PAW FLOWER

paw paw flower

Over the land freckled with snow half thawed

The speculating rooks at their nests cawed

And saw from elm-tops, delicate as flower of grass,

What we below could not see, Winter pass.

                              Edward Thomas

January grey is here,

   Like a sexton by her grave;

February bears the bier,

   March with grief doth howl and rave,

And April weeps - but O ye hours!

   Follow with May's fairest flowers.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Circles and spheres have been associated through the ages with eternity – as they have no beginning and no end. Wreaths, especially, have come to represent this concept, and are used in a variety of ways, from victory crowns to funeral adornments to symbols of the holiday season.

 

November often is a forgiving month - allowing us here in New England to enjoy some milder weather. However, there are many times we have snow and bitterly cold temperatures, sometimes even early in the month. I figure whatever extra time I get to spend outside is a bonus, and I gladly accept any good weather and try to use the time wisely.

My tent stands in a garden

Of aster and golden-rod,

Tilled by the rain and the sunshine,

And sown by the hand of God,-

An old New England pasture

Abandoned to peace and time,

And by the magic of beauty

Reclaimed to the sublime.

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