At this point in preparing the garden for its winter sleep period, I imagine I have one more day of pruning, cutting back, generally tidying up, two at the very most, before I can begin planting the tulip and ranunculus bulbs in preparation for spring bloom. The garden, front and back looks nothing less than woebegone at this point. It's tired from all its summer efforts to please us.

And truth to tell, it always pleases us. Year after year with few exceptions, we discuss between ourselves how pleasurable a year it's been with the garden. We don't seem to put much effort into what we can do at our end, it's the prodigious effort that the garden itself manages to muster with help from nature; we can amend the garden soil, we can do the initial planting, and the sun, wind and rain do their part, but the garden's spectacular aesthetic is its very own doing.

From spring to summer, summer to fall, it has outdone itself in giving us pleasure. So, preparing it for a rest is more than due. Spring will see restoration and renewal and it's something we can think of with anticipation during the winter months.

We're both entranced by hostas, and heucheras are another plant we find absolutely delightful in its architecture, texture-and-colour variations and presentations. The result being that we've so many hostas all over the place they tend to dominate the garden in a wonderful way that we never fail to note and appreciate. They require no care whatever, happy to grow and enjoy their place in shade or sun. But at this time of year, they get cut back.

As do the many hydrangeas that we also grow, except for those with pink and blue blooms that are set in fall for summer bloom.

And cutting back the lilies, the irises, the roses and the hardy hibiscus. It all takes time and care, so that by the time I'm completed that task, I'm kind of tired, too. Once that's all done, I'll cut back and gather in the begonia bulbs and the canna and calla lily roots for storage in the basement overwinter.

The only garden component as it were now no longer needing nursing is the lawn. From utter disaster during the summer months when the Japanese beetle larvae ate the grass roots to our unsuccessful experience with nematodes, and their eradication finally with the use of soap granules leading to a complete dieback of both grubs and grass, the finale was my husband's labour in putting down more soil and compost, re-seeding and finally success.

Our two little carpet roses are still blooming their lovely white/pink blossoms, hardy little things. The zinnias in the garden are fading fast; their time come and gone, but the marigolds seem resistant to the cold that has affected the zinnias and the hibiscus which after one last brave showing of two giant blooms has receded preparing itself to be cut back.

We're in the home stretch now, as it were, nearing finalization of deconstructing the garden, for yet another winter to await revival in the spring, months from the present. Everything is beginning to look fairly bare. Where before the garden soil couldn't be seen, now there are so many gaps in the diminished presence of vegetation, there's a sad look about it all.