A cold front, dumping tons of snow onto Colorado, and with snow also predicted in the Oklahoma panhandle, is making its way further south. After a summer that felt more like a brutal dictatorship, instigated by Mr. Sun, the roses are finally blooming once again and filling the garden with their unique fragrance.
While I’ve filled bare spots in the garden with bulbs, pansies, kale and cabbage, I’ve felt the tug of rosy prickles, as if the roses are asking for attention. Why wouldn’t they? Only roses have their signature scent, and each rose in my garden smells differently. Some have a classic rose fragrance, while others are scented of strawberries and even tea. Beneath their royal feet, I’ve planted tiny bulbs which I hope will please them come spring. I’ve longed to dip my nose into their blooms all year, and believe me, I’ve spent the last few weeks just taking them in. It was a long and horrible summer, and now it is coming to an end.
I could be sad, but instead, I’m enjoying the cloudy skies and the brilliant colors only fall can bring.
I also dream of spring and all the colors I’ve planted, the pinks, yellows, blue and even white, the very absence of color. One of the things my dear friend Wanda taught me was not to hurry to the next season, but instead, to enjoy what is in front of me now. So, while I dream of spring, I’ll also inhale fall’s magic for it is a season gone too soon.