It’s August 18 as I write this, and I’m sitting down to write this post, having just pruned back my tomatoes. It’s certainly the earliest that I’ve ever taken this step. The garden, as a whole, is less than stellar this year—okay, let’s be honest, it’s been the worst season ever. Frankly, I’ve over it.
I can’t help but be philosophical and think that it’s this way throughout our lives too. Some years are memorable for all the right reasons, and others we’d rather not endure. We grumble and grieve for a time, then pick ourselves up and move on. It’s always been that way, and it always will be—in both gardening and life.
Earlier this morning, before the tomato plant annihilation, I pulled out my September calendar and penned and pencilled in my commitments. It’s going to be a busy month. I’m looking forward to everything in those little white boxes, but first we have to get through August and what’s left of the gardening season (which, I’m here to tell you, ain’t much). We’re taking a short trip in mid-September, and I’m intending to have the garden done and dusted before we leave.
September is shaping up to be a month of fresh starts, as usual, but maybe a titch more this year. I’m saying “yes” to a long-term thing that wouldn’t have been possible had I not gone into this year saying “no” to other things. To everything there is a season. And Gerry and I are having conversations about the future as we age, which is both exciting and terrifying, as these things are.
So, bring on the pumpkin spice. Well, okay, not yet, but certainly in a couple of weeks. For now, I’m more than happy to sit in my favourite chair on our back deck, enjoying the sight and sound of trickling water in the birdbath and the beauty of the still-blooming flowers. It’s a good life, and I’m grateful for it.