The Dying

When I left for California, everything here was still alive and green.  Two weeks later, and it's a different story.  Everything is dying.  I'm okay with that.  It's just natural.

My poor sunflower "tree," who stood upright and glorious earlier in the summer, has bowed down to the gods of autumn.  I think the weight of the world is upon her.  Look at how sad she appears!  She's like a little old hunch-backed lady.  But in a few weeks, her center will reveal a wealth of seeds that I can harvest for the birds.  Granted, one sunflower will feed my birds for only a couple of days, but those will be happy days for the birds!  And my sunflower will have learned the reason for her existence.

And she's not the only one.  My black-eyed Susans have also succumbed to the ravages of fall.  I will not cut them back until spring.  The birds this winter will love their seeds and their shelter.  So have at it, birds!  The stark beauty of the Susans in death will be showcased by a backdrop of snowfall soon, a beautiful sight to see.

And my broccoli has gone to seed, and my cucumbers are finished.  Very shortly, they will contribute to my compost pile.  It's all good.  Regeneration, renewal, reward.

And then there's Autumn Joy.  This sedum gradually turns to bronze as the summer fades, providing color and beauty in the flower garden.  Its very name is a reminder that despite the fact that everything is dying, there is still joy to behold in the change of seasons.  And that's a reminder that I need if I am to keep love alive.