We gardeners are patient people. We are always waiting. Waiting for seasons to turn, for plants to grow, for fulfillment of our visions. I have spent all of September waiting.
Waiting for temperatures to cool down. We remain in the 90s during the day, but next week that will change, according to weather predictions, with highs in the 80s. At last I may get to do some heavier garden chores without risk of heat stroke. I need to transplant several shrubs; I need to renovate my forsythia bushes. And the area by my new woodland path — lots to do there!
Waiting for fall. I want to revel in the colors of autumn foliage. I want to wear long sleeves. I want to open all my windows and let in cool, fresh air. Football stadiums are filled to capacity every weekend, and pumpkins are for sale in grocery stores and garden centers. Yesterday, September 23, was the first official day of fall. Although our weather is still stuck in summer, leaves are starting to change along the edges. It won't be long.
Waiting for rain. I think we have had two light rain showers this whole month. Green grass has faded to tan. Leaves are wilted, crinkly, or downright dead. Flowers have disappeared. This, too, is changing. The high pressure system that prevented clouds from coming our way has moved on, and today at last there are fat cumulous clouds overhead. No rain yet, but surely it must come.
Waiting for bulbs to arrive. I have ordered an assortment of daffodils and alliums. The daffodils will go to the area by my new woodland path, the alliums to the new border in the Lady Garden. I have never planted alliums before, but onions and chives do well, so I hope the more decorative cousins will also flourish. My bulbs should arrive in October.
We can get caught up in waiting. I remind myself that tomorrow is guaranteed to no one. What I have is today. Today is a golden day in September, warm and rich as buttered pound cake, ready to be tasted and enjoyed. (I've been trying to lose a few pounds, forgive the simile!)