A garden is always a series of losses set against a few triumphs, like life itself.
—May Sarton

This has been a tough year in the garden for me.

I realize that, for many of you, the weather this summer has totally zapped your energy — and your gardens. For me, though, I can’t blame the weather for wreaking havoc with my garden. While most of you are suffering from unrelenting heat, here in the Great Lakes region, we are having a much different weather pattern. Oh, it’s been hot and humid here, too. But not like the hot or the humid so many of you are experiencing. By contrast, we have been having So. Much. Rain. It’s been thunderstorm after thunderstorm and buckets of rain! Buckets. (Here in my corner of Michigan, we’ve had over 10 inches of rain in the past month alone.)

So. My garden is lush and green and growing like gangbusters.

My problem? Deer.

I thought I had solved the deer problem several years ago . . . with my car-lot flags and my well-placed garden lights. But let me tell you . . . those deer can leap a 6-ft fence strung wires of lights – and right between thickets of oak leaf hydrangea – so gracefully it takes your breath away. And once they discover tasty, delicious garden treats . . . even MORE flags and MORE lights and new-added-barriers will not keep them out.

Now that they’ve devoured every single hosta plant I have in my garden (and there are – or I should say WERE – 80-100 hostas throughout my garden) AND every single one of my Autumn Joy sedum AND all of the blooms from my oak leaf hydrangeas, they’re coming around less often. But the damage to my garden is pretty extreme.

I also have bunnies. I always have bunnies, and I don’t really mind them so much. They mostly go for the clover in my grass, and that’s okay. They are not nearly as hungry – or destructive – as the deer. This year, they are big on my parsley . . . and they continually munch my zinnia and cosmos.

Sigh. I hate to whine, but it’s been a rather disheartening summer. It’s taken 20 years to get my garden to its current state. A lot of work, a big investment. And to see it so . . . tattered . . . is really heartbreaking. Not only is it frustrating to see all those hosta “stems” out there — but things that should be blooming . . . are not blooming. Because they’ve been eaten. Which means fewer butterflies and bees. And on and on.

Okay. ENOUGH of that. Some years are just tough years in the garden. I’m certainly learning which of my plants do NOT attract the deer. (I’m taking good notes.) I’m planting some new things (mostly ferns, which the deer don’t touch) among the hostas, for example. I’m strategizing new ways (for next year) to protect my zinnias and cosmos from bunnies. (I never thought I’d relate to Farmer MacGregor, y’know???) And Tom is helping me figure out a way to “extend” our existing fence for next season.

But – most important of all – I’m working to change my attitude. I’m trying to take the quote from May Sarton (at the top of this post) to heart. She’s right. Gardening IS like life . . . a series of losses interspersed with a few triumphs.

So where I had planned to fill this post with photos highlighting my losses in the garden this year, I realized that no one wants to see my sad photos of . . . stems. Instead, I decided to focus on the triumphs in my garden this year. Because there are plenty of them. Not so many blooms. But still plenty of lovely stuff going on. By running out and looking for the good stuff, it’s helping me overlook the bad stuff — in this post AND in my own head and heart.

Here’s a little gallery of my garden . . . today. Although you may see some stems in a few of the photos, I tried to focus only on the loveliness and not the destruction. May Sarton is right. Gardening is like life itself!

I wish you all a lovely weekend — and some respite from whatever kind of weather you’ve been suffering through.

I’ll be reporting from up north next week, where I’m looking forward to relaxing on the dock, taking leisurely spins around the lake (in our very ancient pontoon), and walking in the woods with JoJo (flies permitting).