The man who helps with my flowers and bushes came today to start removing the annuals that have faded, cut back the perennials that are drooping, and take away my planters for the season. Only the geraniums and the roses avoided his scrutiny as they continue to inspire.
It’s always with mixed emotion that I regard my flowerbeds this time of year. I want to be done with the interminable pruning and weeding, and I don’t like to see flowers that are well past their prime. At the same time, it’s a harbinger not of spring, but of the winter to come. The cold, grey winter that invades our part of the country.
Soon we’ll cover our patio furniture and move the grill inside, not to be used again for several months. We’ll eventually pick the last blooming rose and put cones over the plants. With bricks on top for stabilization in the wind. We’ll close our shades earlier to keep the dark out. And we’ll hibernate.
And perhaps dream of next year’s flowers.