As autumn creeps into our consciousness, I’ve begun to hear a common seasonal exclamation: “Isn’t the cooler weather delightful!” I notice my internal response is “Yes…but…”
Yes…to the reduction of high temperatures with their wilting humidity Yes, to the yellowing of the light. Yes, to color emerging on the trees. Yes, to the visual enjoyment of fat and sassy pumpkins and the gastronomical delight of tart apple cider.
But…fall also ushers in a season of disassembly.
Mostly it is for me the disassembling of my porch garden. I have sat in its verdant unfolding for several months, hiding behind its foliage, absorbing the beauty of its array of color, enjoying the creatures it has attracted. I have tended it lovingly, sometimes watering as many of three times a day to ward off hot- weather droop. I have welcomed its late-summer unruliness. It has been in essence my summertime sanctuary— a place of calming, centering, and contemplation. A replenishing perspective giver in the midst of an unglued world.
And now, anticipating the first frost and freeze, I have slowly begun removing plants from their balcony perch. With a blessing and words of gratitude I have moved some indoors, which continues my pleasure and delays for a bit the inevitable.
The harder act involves leave-taking.
First it has been the caladiums that have worn themselves out. With a blessing and a word of gratitude I put them out of their late-season diminishment.
Yesterday it was the coleus. They grew beyond my wildest expectations— almost four feet tall with stalks an inch in diameter. All summer I, at the recommendation of my master-gardener friend, pinched back their flowering buds so that they would be leafy and full. And they did not disappoint. Recently I have let them bloom in wild abandon— a last fling.
As of late, however, they have gotten leggy and top-heavy, easily tipping over in the northerly breezes. So, C and I girded our loins, picked up our tools (mine, clippers and his, a large garbage bag) and did the necessary deed with a blessing and words of gratitude. Then C carried them to the trash. Soon to follow will be the impatiens, the begonias, and the sweet potato vines.
Later I walked among the many booths of the Tennessee Craft Fair in a nearby park. At a booth without art or crafts I engaged in conversation with a woman from the local Cheekwood Botanical Gardens. Her parting words were, “Take a package of seeds,” as she pointed to a box. As I carefully chose a packet, I smiled.
Yes…to autumn with its cooler temperatures, vibrant color, and air-borne leaves.
But…
Everything comes to an end.
The smile? This knowing: Ending makes way for beginning.
With a wisp of grief in my heart, with an envelope of yellow evening primrose seeds tucked in my back pocket, and with a blessing and words of gratitude, I come again to remember that disassembly is required.
*Images by the author were made while on a photographic exploration of Monet’s Garden, Giverny, France.
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