Ironically, the first pile of firewood in the driveway is still a sign spring is still springing. The day-lilies still so brilliantly blooming announce and celebrate summer, but for me, the Black-eyed Susans are the first color of fall.
They open just after the middle of summer and the orangey yellow is a reminder to stop complaining about the heat, but take the time to enjoy it because it won’t last.
Thing1’s impending graduation has prompted a bit of cleaning inside and, since snow no longer covers the mess we call a yard, the outside too.
I used to have gardening problem, but recovering from a broken foot made digging uneven ground a tough hobby for a few years. I’m back to digging this year, huffing and puffing and trying to remind myself I ran a 12k a few short years ago. It also reminds me that my coveted, brawny gardening physique, and not a bikini body that won’t get used in Vermont anyway, is what I should have been more disciplined about chasing on the treadmill all winter.
Fortunately, a shovel and a patch of dirt still make a cheap gym.
No, you’re not looking at a painting of a suggested location for the remake of the Munsters or the Addams family, down-home version. That overgrown patch of weeds and meadow is going to be my garden this summer.
The local bears have already begun inspecting my composter and have made off with the lid to make sure there’s no confusion about whose garden this really is.
I think Mother Nature is playing mind games this week. After withholding snow until winter sport season is almost gone and people are thoroughly read for spring anyway, she’s seen fit to drop a few inches of powder on us each of the last couple nights. She’s too late, though. i’ve got flowers on the brain, and it’s gonna take a lot more than a few dusting of snow trip to turn that back now.
Prints and Cards of this painting are available here.