Nothing sings the song of autumn more eloquently than a sunflower withering on its stem.

Mid-July I was at a nursery, purchasing a perennial that had been marked as a clearance item.  Like the sunflower in the above photo, that Black-Eyed Susan [Rudbeckia] had passed its season, and it had withered almost to nothingness. When I got to the register to pay for my seemingly dead plant, the salesperson lamented its withered state, but I comforted her: “It’s ok. Spring will come again. It’s October now. But this plant will be beautiful in my  garden again next year.”

And that is the beauty of life:
Spring Will Come Again.

The lady looked suspiciously at me. Her garden had not taught her that nature has an ever-renewing—ever-changing beauty about itself. She had not learned that:

“To everything, there is a season.”
Ecclesiastes 3:11

3 To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

² A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;

³ A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;

⁴ A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

⁵ A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; Ecclesiastes 3:1-5

Jacki Kellum Garden at the End of Summer

I know that the blooms in the above photo need to be dead-headed, but just for a while more, I am enjoying watching my garden move toward winter.

Not more than two months ago, this same area was verdant and these same flowers were thriving.

But two months before that, the coneflowers were still buried in the ground.

At that time, Nature had other treasures to unfold for me. Then, I was thrilled that my daffodils had popped and were welcoming spring.  As Tennyson says, I was delighted by my “bed of daffodil sky:”

Jacki Kellum  Early Spring in Her Yard – Pre-Garden

“Come into the garden, Maud, For the black bat, night, has flown,
Come into the garden, Maud, I am here at the gate alone; Maud
And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad,
And the musk of the rose is blown.
For a breeze of morning moves, And the planet of Love is on high,
Beginning to faint in the light that she loves On a bed of daffodil sky.” – Tennyson

Now, my Sunflower is Fading on that Same: “bed of daffodil sky.”

I write about this often, but please allow me to repeat myself again: I honor the cycle of life–the never-ending circle of living:

“Long before winter is ready to leave the cottage garden, spring has started to coax blossoms from the bare branches and the cold dark soil. Hazel twigs are hung with yellow ‘lamb’s tail’ catkins, and the mahogany wands of pussy willow are studded with beads of silvery white. Buds are plumping along the Chaenomeles’ knobby twigs, while below ground the multicoloured legions of spring  bulbs are on the march upwards towards the light.”

“The mood of spring is urgent and vital. Almost imperceptibly the hours of daylight extend, and the midday sun climbs higher in the sky, bringing a welcome warmth in its rays. Each day brings new signs of re-awakening growth. It is a time of ‘firsts’–the first blue scillas like chips of sapphires, the first yellow primroses nestling amongst the dead leaves in the hedge banks, at the foot of trees, and in shaded, cold and windswept places, the trailing green shoots of the lesser periwinkle are studded with flowers of blue or burgundy….

“As the days lengthen, buds swell along the twigs of cherry, rowan and crab, and break into tiny leaf in a multitude of tender shades of green, gold, and bronze….

“New shoots of hostas, always scarred by frost, pierce the soil like sturdy spears of green and white or yellow, while around them wood anemones, ajugas and violets weave a tapestry of flowers and foliage.

“At the base of a sunny wall, orange and yellow tulips rise above misty blue forget-me-not, a perfect blend of elegant symmetry and informality….

“While not absent from the winter garden, fragrance, like colour, has been strictly rationed. Now spring makes amends by filling the garden with the scents of flowers and foliage….

“Spring showers alternate with sunshine, refreshing the perfumed lilac blossom.

“…overlooking the swelling buds of cottage paeonies and the yellow-green leaves of hemerocallis.

“Soon the early shrub roses will open their first flowers and spring will merge into summer.”

The Cottage Gardener’s Companion, pgs. 8-9.

If I were Aesop, I would say that the Moral of this story is: Enjoy every season–there is beauty in every stage of life.

Dead Soldiers
by Jacki Kellum

“The last petals on a sunflower
stand firm against the chill.
Dead Soldiers, they hold until the end,
Knowing that icicles will soon hang
From their frail arms,
Where winter birds will rest,
Waiting for spring to circle round the bend.”

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