Putting it to rest.

I dug up my squash plants. The leaves died, no more blooms. The end of my sweet yellow summer squash. A demise in a forest of weeds in my ‘compost’ pile. Time for the earth to renew itself. Time to let that corner of the garden rest for a few months. Next to go will be the increasingly dry cucumber vines. No matter how much water I carry, it never matches the quality of a soft summer rain. The plants just soak it up, they don’t appreciate it. And the smell isn’t nearly as sweet. The only thing still clinging to life is a few tomato plants, the few remaining of the second planting, as the first were killed off by the blight and half of the second got annihilated by tomato bugs. So much for the wonder of sevendust. Those big green horny moth-wannabe’s certainly ate their fill from my garden. My two metal planters, large washtubs, are slowly meeting their demise also. Soon the one full of watermelon vines (as no watermelons have been allowed to survive thanks to my woodland friends)  will be filled with fall colored pansies, ready to soak up the cool air and the fall chill as much as I am.  The only thing really thriving is the line of marigolds at the back of my little golden. They are almost ready to bloom, planted late, with buds now bursting at the seams. They will bring an array of sunset oranges and wheaty golden yellows to my garden just as the leaves begin to change into brightly colored candies.

My garden will rest for the winter. Fortifying itself for the spring planting season. I will begin gathering seeds and flats, soil and fertilizers so that the spring thaw will not be ahead of me. The garden will sleep amidst the clang of horseshoes and the crackle of a pine campfire. For there is nothing more peaceful than the crackle of pine, a sky full of stars, and the laughter of friends as a garden sleeps.

Nothing sweeter…

I love the time in spring when the grass is so green it almost hurts your eyes. When it gets cut for the first time, the smell is so refreshing it makes the effort all the more worth it. I love the feel of dirt between my toes and a rake or shovel in my hand as I work the earth into the canvas for what will be a beautiful painting. The combination of colors, bright and swirling, and the heady odor of fruit blossoms and fresh earth mingle and linger in my senses, following me long after I’ve abandoned the serenity of my garden for the peace of my bedroom. The peace follows me here, filling every empty niche, finding every hollow crevice and filling it to its brim, bringing it to a gloriously ripe fullness that the mind requires. Sweet, juicy, crisp, tart – not only words or senses – full powers of embodiment that can transform our perception of the world.

I love standing, at the end of the day, with my hands on my hips and a smile of satisfaction on my face, knowing full well, that  I have accomplished something. That I have earned what I will reap from the gardens that I sow.