The Autumn of Things

The growing season is over.

Sage with a hint of light frost

Yesterday morning, the frost kissed my flower garden and our community garden.   For some plants, it was a deadly kiss.

It was just cold enough to end the lives of our most tender plants - our tomatoes, impatiens, zinnias, and what was left of our basil.  

Asters still standing after yesterday morning's frost

Other plants that are just a tiny bit less sensitive - peppers, pineapple sage (not what is pictured above), my domesticated asters - made it through, although some bear the scars of the light frost.

Our plants that will take some frost - Swiss chard, Asian greens, geraniums, pansies - stood tall and proud.  For now. In our climate, the weather gets too cold for any of these to survive the winter outdoors.

It's time to switch my attention to two things:  which container plants will I save and try to overwinter, and what will I do about houseplants.

To everything, there is a season, and we humans are no different.

In some way, we are different from our plants.  In some ways, we are the same.

We are born, grow, flower.  Call this the spring and summer of our lives.

Then comes the autumn of our lives, if we are fortunate enough to make it that far (not all my friends/family have, and, I'm willing to bet, not all of yours have, either.)  One day, the human equivalent of frost will come to each of us.  For most of us, we don't know when or where.  We can't look at a calendar and say, oh, we are coming up on the frost or freeze date.

We do the best we can with the time we have remaining.

We plant the garden of our lives.  We learn new things.  We read new books.  We try new activities. 

For me, it's houseplants and trying to overwinter outdoor plants.  Why not?  In a way, they have become my children.

In the last two months I have purchased several new houseplants:  two ferns (a bit out of my comfort zone), a hoya (out of my comfort zone), another snake plant (I have three types now) and another pothos, this time one with silver in the leaves. 

Crispy wave fern (from Trader Joe's) and hoya Australis "Lisa"

It makes me happy (except, of course, when I kill one of them).

My spouse has turned to birding.  Why not?  I can enjoy that with him, although I'm not into it as much as he is.

We try to age with grace.  I have examples in my life, people I know or knew, who showed me what aging can be like if we do it right.  

What do those people have in common?  Several things: a zest for learning.  A desire to stay active, not to sit in front of the television all day.  A willingness to try new things.  And, taking care of someone and something.

The graceful part is the hard part, though.  I catch myself complaining too much.  I don't practice gratitude enough.

I do have that zest for learning, though.  I want to keep my mind active, to appreciate sunsets, to see new things. 

I hope I can keep that up for my remaining years.