And there is anticipation. Anticipation of bulbs arriving to be planted in the ground, to snug down for the long winter and then gradually, slowly awake to spring. And beds to be put to rest. Plants to be taken up, mulch to be put down, last weeds to be weeded.
And voles. Nasty voles have invaded my garden this summer. It seems the twin combination of lots of bird seed and nice, new plants with freshly dug dirt are just too irresistible for voles. I've got new vole holes popping up every other day. Holes in the back garden. Holes under the hosta. Holes in the yard. Holes under the front porch. Holes in the front garden. I won't bore you with photos of holes, but I may talk about dealing with them, if I can manage to find a solution.
First order of business? I have stopped feeding the birds for the moment. A difficult but necessary step.
But the garden is still pretty, even in its last blush of late summer. Tomatoes galore for us and for the neighbors.
Marigolds, at the peak, giants this year, amazing, impossibly giant giants sweeping up along the road in glorious clouds of orange and red ...
Asters, at their peak ...
Dahlias ...
Zinnias ...
The happy, leggy bonariensis that I never thought would come up from seed ...
A rambunctious late volunteer nasturtium setting off the heaven's gate coreopsis ...
The porch in its hanging pots aglow ...
Dogwood, yew and holly getting their fall reds out of storage ...
Fall geraniums with happy faces ...
One last rose ..
And one last nameless weed blooming ...
Cats in sunny windows on cold mornings ...
Spiders, big as science fiction monsters, readying their Hallowe'en webs (ancient shovels repurposed out of the lost depths of the garage to gently sweep them away from doorways back into the garden) ...
And the Hardy Cape Daisy, freed from bittersweet in the longago spring (here) and long anticipated, now finally in bloom ...
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