This picture is from Helga's garden in Australia where everything is done backwards. They have spring now. It might be a good idea to move to Australia right now.
Except that we have the first snow here! Large fluffy white balls slowly descending from the calm skies, and the air has that onset-of-winter smell: crisp, clean and muffled. I can hardly wait for the snow to cover all the work in the garden I didn't do this year. And the artistically arranged piles of old dog poop that I haven't picked up yet.
It has been too rainy and bone-chilling cold to spend hours outside cutting down dead perennials and raking leaves, so I haven't done a thing. What is so wonderful about this is that Nature is working quite well without my help, thank-you-very-much, and some of the new color compositions are truly lovely: the last yellow roses opening against a background of bronze-colored grasses, with a scattering of withered black willow leaves over them both. If I ignore the mildewed peony bush next to this I can feel quite content. Life is like that, and the garden imitates.
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Go to American Street for some more political posts today.