This weekend we received some much-needed rain and cooler temperatures. The turn in weather bore hints of fall, which I would whole-heartedly embrace if not for the turmoil I feel within when thinking of what fall may hold for us this year. It’s no good to consider the future with worry over what could go wrong, but that’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m terribly worried that we’ll have another school year that my daughter will barely tolerate. I keep telling myself that it’s utterly counterproductive to think in such a way, that worry improves the future about as well thought alone can make the hands of a clock move faster.
Last week I read Dicken’s A Tale of Two Cities for the very first time. I’ll try not to spoil the plot for those of you who haven’t read this classic, but I will mention that there is a poignant reverie wherein one of the characters imagines some glorious aspects of a future that stretches across several generations. Perhaps it is not natural for anyone to think so far into the future, but I found that I could not or would not think more than two to three years into the future. To look any further seems like delving into a choose-your-own-adventure where the choices seem impossible to make.
Some of the flowers in my garden persist despite a few frosty nights. The weather has been too inhospitable for much deadheading or trimming of these plants. The time has come to let this garden season go, but I will not pull the annuals until every last blossom is spent.
I will cherish this year’s garden for years to come. This was the year their bounty helped sustain me.
The heat still rages and is expected to linger through most of the coming week. My petunias are loving this sweltering weather. My hanging baskets have endured the heat with a daily watering.
My tolerance for extreme temperatures diminishes with each passing year. I seem to remember writing last year that eventually I may be left with a ten-degree zone of comfort, likely 60 to 70 degrees with just enough overcast and rainy days for plants to thrive.
While I will not miss these 85 to 90 degrees when they pass, I take solace in the fact they are stalling the start of freezing temperatures that will halt this year’s garden by mid-fall.
Our summer-ending heatwave has enlivened the garden. The second batch of buds is swelling on my hibiscus bush, so it is looking more likely to rebloom like it did last year:
The petunias are loving this heat:
I’d be remiss if I didn’t make a weekly garden post before the first frost hits us, an event which has an unknown date as of yet.
My hanging baskets are loving the cool nights and moderate days, but they’ve demanded a daily watering. I think this is a sign that they are wearing their baskets like painted on jeans.