Around 4:30 a.m. today we woke up to the whirring blades of fans. We are used to hearing the fans in the dark of the mornings in springtime but fans in the autumn are just plain unnecessary. Nevertheless, I know that the fans automatically come on only when the temperature gets close to freezing. We have not yet had a hard frost and are enjoying a blissfully long Indian summer. Hearing the fans put me into a panic. It was clear and cold, and those early morning hours are when the temperature can dip to frosty. I was panicked about losing the flowers in the gardens. If they die I won't see them again for at least another six months.
Six months of clouds, rain, fog, rain, snow, fog, rain, mud, rain, fog, mud, snow, rain....you get the idea.
I thought about getting out of bed, finding a flashlight, a coat and some clippers and going outside to clip all the flowers I could find before the frost covered them... one last bouquet before the growing season leaves me with the gray funk of seasonal affective disorder.
Seriously. I thought seriously about getting out of bed to cut flowers in the dark. This is how I think when I am faced with the end of the garden season.
The cosmos that I plant from seed every year are a prolifically blooming border along the driveway.
I have been unable to find any seed to collect for next year because there is a flock of goldfinches that spend every day cleaning out the seed buffet. I am not ready to see these turn to a brown stand of dead flowers.
I am still harvesting my very very late tomatoes. The experimental San Marzanos are just finally getting ripe! Please! No frost yet!
I didn't get out of bed in the dark. But I did rush out before breakfast to check on the dahlias.