“I come to the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses” (C. Austin Miles, 1912. Cokesbury Hymnal #62)
There’s no dew in my garden this morning. I had to turn the sprinkler on to keep some plants from withering. In spite of the need for rain, the mosquitoes are out looking for breakfast, and I’m on the menu.
Whatever I do in the yard, which isn’t much these days, must be done early. Today’s predicted high in Down South, Alabama is 99 F, and there is a weather advisory for a heat index today between 106 and 111. Whew.
“And He walks with me and He talks with me, and He tells me I am His own. And the joy we share as we tarry there, none other has ever known.” (C. Austin Miles, “In the Garden”)
There is a bit of slow down in July’s garden. Hydrangeas are fading from blue to green, sometimes with a tinge of purple. It makes me think of the color of the pale horse in the sixth chapter of Revelation.
Fewer perennials are blooming than the spring burst brought. My phlox should continue through fall.
The annuals are boringly consistent in the borders, but I’m grateful for the color. Otherwise, there are the many textures and shades of green.
I’m just trying to keep it all from turning brown and bug-bitten.
But I see some hope in here also. This ageratum will be spectacular in the fall.
There are tiny buds on my camillia that will be a joy throughout the winter.
The butterfly gingers are starting to bloom and the other gingers will follow soon. I’ll show you when the others show up.
The cycle continues. Life triumphs. We watch and enjoy what comes our way.
And it is very good.