Beauty in the Garden

What is it that inspires me to go into the garden on a foggy November Sunday morning? The beauty. The dew collects on the Asparagus ferns giving them a silvery sheen. Brilliant pink roses announce their charm. The wild Baccharis pilularis or Coyote Bush covered in white fluffy bloom with its sweet scent will always remind me of fall. If you grow up in California and play outdoors in the hills as I did, you become familiar with this scent. These plants grow in the open grassy spaces between the Oaks. I have cut them for display in the house where their fluff falls on the table below.
The vegetable plants show their exuberance as they push up through the soil; fava and bell bean seeds, garlic, red onions, and also the flowering bulbs that promise color in winter. They express beauty in the patterns which their unfoldment follows. The bulbs are straight up and the winter beans slightly nodding with their leaves poised to lift and spread.
Always the surprise and wonder draw me. There will be some discovery today. Perhaps it will be new blossoms of sea-blue winter iris or a hummingbird at the pineapple sage. The wonder that I am part of this life is more that my mind can comprehend but my heart has always known. I share this life with the plants and animals I see around me and the microscopic life in the soil. Sometimes I see a favorite animal like a toad. I am at home.

Today's wonders were the last gifts of the season: a bucket of tomatoes in red, orange, yellow and green; a few last zinnias and chrysanthemums, and a couple of red kuri winter squash. This was probably the last time till next year that I will bring these treasures into the house. Soon the tender summer plants will turn to mush when they freeze. Then the onions, garlic, green manure legumes, chard, cole crops, and orange calendula flowers will have the garden to themselves. As I picked the last pear tomatoes, I was sad and appreciative. We have eaten some wonderful fresh salsas, salads, and tomato sauces, and the vibrant colors of the tomatoes have brightened our kitchen counter since July. I discovered that I will miss them like friends who move away for part of the year.