It is that time of year when we lose the gardens we so carefully tended to frost and changing seasons. I've thanked the flowers for keeping me company all summer, and vegetables for providing sustenance physically, spiritually and emotionally. I've picked the last of the tomato's showing color. Every day I walk the garden, water, weed and take pictures for when the snow files. Yes, somethings grew beautifully, some not so much. I have one plant just setting fruit. No way I'll see that to harvest. Another just started to bloom long after I decided it just wouldn't. I've covered a few plants tonight to protect them from the frost and prolong their beauty just a little bit.
Isn't that just like life. We plant seeds, some produce, some tease us. Some fail to thrive. I've taken cuttings to hopefully hold over until next season. I've brought in a few plants that I know will tolerate life indoors until the porch beckons them again.
A year ago, about this time an old man brought me a wandering Jew plant he potted up because frost was going to kill it. I didn't know the man, so it was random we connected at the shop I work in. And, while I thought it was silly to drag the pot home, and winter the scraggly thing over, I did just that. I planted them in several places, and they absolutely thrived. We should all grow like that. Lesson learned; scraggly things can become a thing of beauty given the chance.
I hope I have bloomed over the season. I hope I've set deep roots, taken nourishment, let go of what didn't serve me well, and grown into something more beautiful. I trust the process. I know some seeds never grow and some grow beyond our wildest dreams. Some volunteer in the least likely of places. Some come back every year, some are one and done. I wish you the same in your seasons of growth. I'll look ahead to the seasons as they unfold. Grateful for all that blooms where it is planted.
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