A Good Home, Canadian Gardens, Garden Scenes, Twigs in My Hair - A Gardening Memoir

The Garden at Summer’s End

There’s a  freshness and tranquility in the late summer garden that extends into early autumn.

Blog Photo - Late Summer Garden Hosta and J Maple

The colours are more muted now, but no less impactful.

Blog Photo - Late summer garden hosta and birdbath MCU

Blog Photo - Late summer garden Hydrangea and chairs

Green leaves are greener, the pinks of sedum and blues of caryopteris can be seen more clearly.

Blog Photo - Late summer garden deep pink sedum

Blog Photo - Late Summer garden blue flowers of caryopteris

Even the trees are slow to turn orange and red this year, as if ceding the moment to the softness of this season.

Many tomatoes are still green on the vine.

Blog Photo - Late summer garden tomatoes

So this is how the summer ends:

Not with a bang, but a flower. A flower and some fruit…

Blog Photo - Late summer garden apples turning on tree branches

… and a branch of colour, peeking out to signal that autumn is on its way.

Blog Photo - Late summer garden Small Maple branch turning orange

I wish I were the kind of person who totally absorbs herself in the great now of it all, blocking all thought of the passage of the season.

But you may remember: I failed Mindfulness & Meditation 101.

As with the great times with loved ones, I’m greedy to want this moment to last.

Blog Photo - Late summer garden hosta white fragrant CU2

And when autumn blazes in with its glorious colours, I’ll find myself wanting to fix that in stasis too. For just a few more weeks.

It’s all a wan thought, a vain attempt, at holding off winter, you know.  We are a winter country but I’m not a winter person.

Blog Photo - Late summer garden - chairs and umbrellas CU

Note to blogger friend, September 9, 2019

“Yes, Laurie, there is a bittersweetness in the air, a time when we lose one thing and gain another, and even the flowers that bloom now are a reminder of the end of the flowering season.”

Note to my journal:

“I’ve long thought that gardening is a form of art. The soil is our canvas; we paint with flowers, shrubs and trees — always paying respect to Mother Nature. So let us add gardening to the canon of visual and natural arts, and recognize that we are, perhaps, the most fortunate of artists.”