Mum's the word

 

We haven’t had a hard freeze yet, so it seems a shame to empty out all the pots of annual flowers that graced my front and back decks this summer. It’s time, though.  Daytime temps aren’t even climbing into the 60’s anymore. 

Most of my neighbors have already swapped out their annuals with potted mums of gold, orange, and cranberry red.  Cornstalks and pumpkins adorn other porches.  One neighbor has transformed his front yard into a Halloween “graveyard” with fake headstones, skeletons, spider webs and an honest to goodness hearse. (I don’t want to ask where he got that.)

The sun is lower in the sky. Shadows are longer. The down comforter is back on the bed.  And my basket of hats, gloves, and scarves stands at the ready in my entryway.

It’s time.

So I’ll empty the pots and scrub them clean.  I’ll store them in the garden shed with the patio furniture, hoses, sprinklers, and all the crazy pieces of garden art I’ve collected over the years.  I’ll sweep off the decks; mulch and rake the leaves. I’ll wrap my rhododendrons to protect them from winter hungry rabbits.

This weekend, I promise. I’ll take on all these autumn chores.

But first, I think I’ll go get some mums.