More photos from lost posts of wet suits, with ghostly taunting from a pool on the verge of being closed. I remember the water being so warm all season – a shortened season perhaps, and all the more pleasurable for it. Fleeting joys for summer boys.
I tried to get in at least once on every possible sunny day, and I was largely successful. An afternoon float, coupled with a meditation, marked the end of working-from-home sessions – a lovely demarcation that will have to live solely in the meditation realm from here until next spring, and what a long journey that seems right now.
That said, I’m not entirely sad about the situation. Summer was actually pretty decent to us. The plants on the patio are testament to the heat and sun we had. Long lines of sweet potato vines dangle all the way from the canopy to the ground. An angel’s trumpet plant towers high in the sky, still dripping with its gorgeously-scented blooms. And pots filled with ferns have grown up and out, unfurling their fronds in lush tropical splendor.
We will hold onto this visage until the first hard frost, and the memories well into the winter. But I know these plants are tired, and the rest of the garden needs a rest as well. As long as we can try again next year, it’s ok to take a brief nap. We’ve earned it.
