Every year around this time, the morning glories that managed to escape my early-season ruthlessness begin blooming and showing me where they are with these colorful blooms. I don’t pull them, happy for this vibrance at the time of the year when the ferns that previously hid them are starting to brown and fall apart. That’s my general feeling on the gardens right now – it’s the downhill slide, and no amount of watering or feeding will turn it around. Sometimes you have to give in to the inevitable end. You may mourn, and that helps some, but it won’t slow or stop or change anything.
There are a few more moments of fresh blooms to come – the Japanese wax bells (Kirengeshoma palmata) and the Japanese anemone (Eriocapitella x hybrida) to name a couple of favorites – and our Hibiscus just started its own show, but the overall sense is one of resignation to the coming end. That means making the most of this time, and this morning – like so many mornings that have come before – coupled with the realization that some of us have fewer mornings ahead of us than behind us.
