We're fast approaching the time of year when we look out the glassed front door to appreciate the texture, form and colour we can see beyond into the garden, our eyes seeking out details, from droplets from an overnight temperature inversion to a rainfall leaving brilliant pearls of water on the plants glinting in the morning or afternoon sun to thinking how time is shrinking the number of opportunities still remaining for us to enjoy these lingering glances before winter closes in and we exchange the exciting colour for the monochromatic tints of snow and ice.

As though we might have failed to notice that we now have fully an hour and a half less of daylight. That when the heat of the day wears off and the sun begins to sink it becomes noticeably cooler, quickly. Or that we hear more crickets in the garden now than songbirds. Or that daytime temperature highs are lower and so is the humidity and we begin to feel cool, not warm. Much less the fact that we're taken by surprise now when glancing out at the patio doors onto the deck and back garden in the early evening dusk falls so quickly and suddenly it's dark out there before we know it....

Not to mention the number of leaves we now see in the ravine fallen to the forest floor with brilliant orange and yellow and red colouring. And then there's the garden, again. It has worked so hard all summer long and it is now so very obviously worn out by the effort.  Flowering plants have either shrivelled up past their lifetime as some annuals or they've become lean and stringy, though still valiantly putting out blooms; not as abundant, fresh and luscious as before, but present and accounted for.

Cutting back spent perennials is now in order and gaps appear in the garden beds here and there as a result. The gaps are temporary, swiftly filled in by greedy, opportunistic plants that always behave like bullies anyway; Ladies Mantle, Day Lilies and most certainly Harlequin vines and perennial geraniums fit that category.

The garden spirits and sprites no doubt puzzle just as we do over where summer has gone. We can scarcely credit how swiftly the time goes when weather permits us to casually do as we will whenever we like, wherever we wish to, during these days of spontaneously responding to nature's invitation to make the most of the serendipitous connection between summer, leisure and enjoyment.

As for the pleasure the garden has given us from spring to summer and now into fall, it has been beyond splendid. That it is beginning to fade and all of that natural beauty slipping away, in response to its own seasonal longevity and the transition toward late fall and winter, is something we can find no comfort in, only regret. Never has humankind felt differently. Fearing the onset of winter and the temporary disappearance of clement days and nights.

The ancient Greek legend of Persephone, daughter of Demeter, whom Hades fell in love with, abducted and made Queen of the Underworld only to emerge in spring tells us the story of humanity puzzling over the seasons, from primitive times to ancient mythology, to the present. The consort of Zeus, Demeter's grief at her daughter's absence caused all vegetation on Earth to merge with the soil and disappear. During the six months of the year that Persephone was released from the underworld, plants re-emerged and Demeter was happy. And so are we.