There is a beautiful disappointment that accompanies the end of summer. When the shadows start to stretch across the street so much earlier and in a much softer way you know the end is near. It's really hard not to hate the beauty in it.
I can't say that I love the signals of a new season, a colder season, a season that could quite possibly bring snow in less than a month. It's always a possibility and it makes me sick. I don't like cold.
Shoveling the walks? Loathe. Dressing kids in mittens and scarves and coats and boots? No likie. And constant runny noses -- I especially do not like those. This year, the only reason I might welcome a frost is so that I can give up on my flowers and potted vegetables. I'm so over watering those suckers. And I can't think of another tasty way to eat a tomato, I just can't.
But I do love my collection of denim. And I have some pretty awesome boots. So, I guess I'll resign myself to the inevitable. I might even smile about it. But don't hold your breath.
PHOTO NOTE: Showing you just 1 pot this year, because I shudder at the rest. And this one was hidden in the back. No one even saw it.
1 comment:
Only a photographer has that perspective. How come your pots are so much prettier than mine?
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