A month from the cruelty of summer's scorch, a mere six days after the fall equinox, a small rain or two behind us, a cool night or three to lift our spirits, and life begins again in the garden. Even while I'm attempting emergency resuscitation of my buffalograss, other floral tough guys are showing their resilience; blooming literally, as it were, amidst the devastation of my stressed landscape.
I know that this photo of a 'Charlotte Brownell' bloom was careless, taken with my cell phone instead of a decent camera, hand-held and under artificial light instead of carefully composed, but it is nonetheless representative of hope for my garden's future. I quickly plucked the discovered bloom from its thorny cradle and sprinted straight for its presentation to Mrs. ProfessorRoush, an old man made young by rebirth and seeking the approval of love again.
I've never experienced a more perfect bloom of 'Charlotte Brownell', each petal smooth and unblemished by insect or sun, kissed with the mild rain that fell yesterday afternoon. She has struggled in my garden, this offspring of 'Peace', and in the summer heat she shriveled, opening too fast and fading to white before her true beauty could be appreciated. Only now, can I see her promise. A year's growth behind her, now in Fall, she moves from awkward childhood into puberty in the blink of an eye, the temperate weather bringing blush to her cheeks and a healthy glow to her center.
And I am reminded how a garden, once verdant, can be so again, reinvigorated by the passage of seasons; ever green, ever growing, and forever hopeful.