Winter blues

Poor little moth must take shelter.  Hope he chooses a tough winter plant!

My garden, which is most definitely my muse, is in a state of sadness and resignation. This is a grieving process endured each autumn as its close friends and acquaintances leave or begin their long sleep. 

For now it will not be consoled. With each browning stem and dropping, unspent, tardy bud, the garden sheds a tear, eliciting my sympathy to no end. To us both, spring seems an eternity away. No amount of well-meaning empathy from those around us seems to help. We know the leaves are lovely in their dying colours, and yes it's lovely to see the grass greening again, but we know of the long days ahead with little daylight and even less life-affirming new growth.

We do acknowledge that a rest is in order after a long season of production and performance, so give us a little time and we too will appreciate our winter hibernation as we are meant to do.  We will welcome our local little hummingbirds, and their life-sustaining little bug snacks, and a few winter berries will be there to focus on.  Before you know it, dear garden, your nurturing soils will throng with well-rested baby bulbs, and bugs bursting from their beds.

So when my garden and I are done with this seasonal funk, we will focus on those little victories of nature; the rosebud that somehow demurely peeps out from its protected spot against the house, and the tough little snapdragon sheltering some tiny creature that has chosen such a precarious champion.

Wait, what a stunning beautyberry next door! Tiny bunches of purple balloons cling in crowds all along the bush's stems! I must get one for my garden. That will brighten up my dear muse.

Ah yes.  There is still beauty after all this winter.

somebody is hiding in this suspended leaf.