RHYME TIME

On this Thanksgiving weekend I scavenged my garden for the last blooms of this year's gardening season. The grape arbor offered me some nice vines to twist into a wreath that adorn my front door together with some red and golden leaves. Today was garden clean-up time, and in those hours I found myself thanking God for the beauty I had enjoyed from spring through fall. I gleaned a nose-gay of rosebuds as around them the fading foliage of their neighbouring perennials were clipped to the ground, awaiting a trip to the city composting site.

The last posy bouquet ... I thought!

Coming in from the light drizzle of rain I had a few moments of 'Rhyme Time' which had not come to me all summer. So here is my untitled inspiration:

There's a nip of frost in the air these days,

Blooms are spent, bees and butterflies flown away.

Leaves are fluttering to the garden floor

Settling to an earthy mosaic like my quilt indoors.

It's hard to lay the garden to rest

and no longer to hear the bird's in their nests.

Clay pots look drab without adornment of flowers,

Adirondak chairs sit silent beneath the rose leafed bower.

Each year I moan at this fearsome task

"Could we have a smaller yard?" I longingly ask.

When all's said and done, garden tools set aside.

My heart remembers ..... there are books inside!

waiting to be read in falls fading light,

it could even last to the wee hours of the night.

So let the cold come - rain, frost, even snow on my sill,

Find a cosy chair and let the flames at the hearth keep away winter's chill.

The cycle of seasons must continue, agree?

Or the summer perennials I never will see.

So, I said a prayer on this Thanksgiving Day,

for this gardening year and the joys brought my way.

by trudy

... The carpet ...

... These really are the last posies of the season ...