August 2, 2008

• August

  Below is another photograph of the daylily, Fat Lady Sings -- what a great name for a late blooming daylily.
  
  After I wrote my last entry, we did get a nice little rain, thanks to the remnants of the storm, Dolly. It was over a half inch and so very welcome. Our heat has been oppressive. Today the prediction is for temps over 100° again, and the way it felt when we were out at noon, it will surely make it.

  Below are pictures of Crepe Myrtle and a single Gaillardia blossom. I have very few Gaillardia blooming this year, but quite a few healthy little plants that I hope will come back next year and put on a nice show.
  

  Below I'm reprinting a piece I wrote several years ago about August in Oklahoma -- and about life:
  

  When I took my bucket and shears to the garden this morning at sunup
  I knew what awaited me: the same chore I've performed since our hot dry
  August began taking its toll on my flowers. I spend my time trimming
  away the plants that can't take the heat.

  I often begin by wondering what the garden has to teach me today. I
  find many lessons demonstrated eloquently there and have come to
  appreciate the metaphors.

  My garden has shown me repeatedly that life is very temporary. It
  does not despair of this reality, however. It blooms when it can and
  glories in the beauty of each day. It doesn't spoil the present with
  worry about what the future holds, but faces the inevitable droughts,
  disease and pests when they come.

  I've learned to hold back sometimes and watch. There was a time when
  I tried to micro-manage the garden, pulling every weed, spraying every
  bug, and training every vine that seemed to go awry. I sometimes did
  more harm than good. I've learned that the garden does not find its own
  grace if I hover -- and the natural grace of a garden (or any life) is
  better than anything I might plan.

  The garden has taught me that sometimes its best to give up certain
  cherished ideas. Some things don't grow well here.  When I let the
  garden lead, I'm a better gardener. It doesn't do any good to try to
  make my garden something it is not. It is not a Michigan garden or a
  Portland garden. It is an Oklahoma garden and it knows it and will not
  yield to my demands.

  Which brings me to the lesson of today: control. I don't have it…
  never did even when I thought this was "my" garden. Yes, I can
  introduce new plants and shape the garden in some ways, but it has a
  will of its own, as does a child. Both are subject to forces
  that we have no control over. We are not even "stewards," because that
  implies more power than we have. We are caregivers.  I tend to my garden's needs and enjoy its gifts when they come. And when my garden
  is in sad shape, I keep tending it. I water it, I keep the weeds from
  strangling it, and I keep a compost pile going to improve the soil
  because I know that this is just one season. The dry brown leaves of
  August do not tell the whole story.  Life awaits in the roots and in
  the seeds that are ripening on the withered vines. My garden will bloom
  again. Life is like that.

  ---

  • 1:28 pm
  • 13 Comments