Over the weekend, Tom helped me with the final tasks in “buttoning up” my garden for the season. It’s always a little bittersweet when it’s time to actually call it quits for the year. On the one hand, I’m happy to be “done” with everything. It’s kind of freeing to just . . . stop worrying about it for a few months. But I miss it, too. Not so much the weeds, but everything else . . . the blooms and the color and the magic and the just sitting out . . . in it.

I don’t worry so much about getting my garden all tidied and cleaned up. I “leave the leaves” in my garden beds (I want to build up the natural mulch), and allow my dormant perennials to become a safe haven for insects and garden critters over the winter. I should have done more weeding this fall (always true), but . . . c’est la vie! I’ll deal with them next spring.

             

             

I hung up a new birdfeeder, and replaced my wind sock and rain chain with suet feeders. And Tom got the heater set up in the pond so our frogs can make it through the winter. (That’s a little Carolina wren up there, visiting my Bird Buddy feeder. She’s become a new “regular” in my garden this year.)

I actually love my garden in the late fall — the colors and the textures and the sheer randomness of it all.

             

             

But there’s one view that just makes me . . . pretty sad, actually . . . once we’ve tucked away the patio furniture for another season. (JoJo is sad about it, too.) Sigh.

Seasons change.
On we go!