Fall blew in on a mighty, cold, north wind.
It toppled our beloved Willow tree, but left a trail of purple blooming asters in its wake.
Just a couple weeks ago, we were still brushing the century mark. Now it is sweater weather.
The two-day wind storm stoked anxieties about more wildfires. We were thankfully spared here.
I want to hide in the garden away from the news and the sense of dread I feel about the election ahead and the wildfire of hate that is sweeping across our land.
History tells me that we too often repeat errors from the past…
and…that seasons pass.
You should never wish away time, but I can only hope that this one is on its way out.
Gardens For Goldens 