It's been a marvelously rainy and foggy day. As I was walking outside, I noticed the colors were muted and much more monochromatic— winter is coming with her shades of white and gray. The garden still has a few stalwart and vibrant holdouts but it won't be long before I cut everything down and put the garden to bed.
I took these pictures in the beginning of October at sunrise. Between the kids and dogs, I've honed my 'early bird gets the worm' skills and catch my fair share of glorious sunrises (a decent consolation prize for leaving my warm bed). The garden looked so lovely on that October morning, lush and colorful in spite of the fact that in a few short weeks it would be a pale imitation of its summer splendor.
'Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said. A child or a book or a painting or a wall built or a pair of shoes made. Or a garden planted. Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and when people look at that tree or that flower you planted, you're there.' Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451
