I spent yesterday afternoon putting the vegetable/flower garden to bed for the winter. Usually it's cold and nasty when I finally get around to this autumnal chore, but yesterday it was warm and sunny. I always marvel at how the zinnias, salvia, cosmos and snapdragons, which started out as tiny plants, grow into such big bushes of flowers, and how my massive, towering sunflowers started as just seeds. There's a motivational poster there, somewhere.
I "lifted" the Peruvian daffodil bulbs -- they're not hardy here -- and was amazed to see how big they've gotten (time to divide), and how solidly they had grown into the earth. Picture four big Vidalia onions, joined at the top, with ridged rat's tails as roots. I got a very good workout digging them out.
I'm editing an academic book on how people define themselves, and one of the more interesting chapters is an essay about how one woman sees her different identities all on display in her garden: artist, creator, nurturer, teacher, perfectionist, hard worker, peacemaker with others in the communal garden. Wish I'd thought of that.
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