Oh my goodness, where do I even start?
A month, a month is way too long to stay away from this blog. I’ve sorely missed it here but haven’t had the head space, or heart space to really dig in and share in a way that felt authentic but not too dark.
When I’m exhausted and overwhelmed, it can be easy to slip into negativity and that’s not at all what I want to be putting out into the world.
But if I am to be totally honest without getting too tangled up in the story, this past month was pretty darn hellish.
The long excruciating finish to an epic 8 month marathon, that felt like it would never end. But just as fast as it all hit mock speed, we’ve come to a slow coast and the finish line is so very near.
So far, no frost, even though I’ve whispered tiny prayers under my breath everyday for its early arrival.
But the rain and the wind have pretty much taken care of our field flowers. The zinnias have melted down into a rotten mess, the statice is toast, the rudabeckia is flattened, the bells of ireland are riddled with disease and the birds have finally found the blown open sunflowers that didn’t make the cut.
Now all that’s left are the dahlias and a few odds and ends in the shrub borders.
This years dahlia crop is certainly one for the record books. We hustled in April and got all 3,500 tubers in on time, plus the weather was spectacular all summer, our soil improvements worked and we were rewarded with our best crop to date.
This little darling dahlia named ‘Appleblossom’ is one of the first varieties I ever planted and still sits my favorites list.
Now that the pressure of harvest has almost passed, we’re shifting gears into clean-up mode and getting ready for next spring.
Sweet peas are being sown in pots to get an early jump, biennials have been tucked into the field, icelandic poppies are nestled into the greenhouse, ranunculus are coming back to life and the anemones are waking up as well.
As one cycle completes, the other begins.
While I’m tired and feeling ready to close out this chapter, I know the morning that the first frost blackens the patch, I’ll shed some tears over the loss of all of this beauty and start missing them all over again.
So for now, I’m going to try my hardest to be in this very moment and soak up every last drop of goodness and magic that the garden has to offer.
For any day now, it will all just be a memory.
Hope you’re getting a chance to do the same.