Late Summer in the Garden

The green beans are making their way from their trellis to the arch with the climbing roses. New Dawn pinks are dancing with the red of Scarlet Runners. A ‘mess' of beans was picked this morning and will be steamed by evening.

Six quarts of pasta sauce rest in the freezer thanks to the prolific output of heirloom tomatoes: red Legends, Nebraska Golds, and the gorgeous yellow of Taxi.

When the Sun Gold cherries make it to the kitchen and don't get eaten straight from the vine, their tang perfects the panzanella salad and the basil pesto for pasta. Almost too pretty to cook, purple eggplants have had their day on the grill, and the Baby Dumplings are waiting for another cool day and their roasting date with the oven.

Overgrown and over blown, the roses are past their prime, need trimming, yet have buds waiting to bloom - a final push before their season truly ends. Poppies are faded and the phlox has fallen over on itself.

It's as if the garden knows Labor Day is just a few, getting-shorter days from now.

And of course, it does. We all know.

Mother Nature has been sending signals to us for at least a week. She's put that slightly bittersweet taste on our tongues, a damp and musty odor in our nostrils, the failing, softer, late light in our eyes.

It's a vague voice being received by our semi-conscious minds. Gentle hints sotto voce; the whispers and murmurs in the air: "summer is almost gone."

Children shriek in the street, reluctant listeners to mothers calling. Back-to-school shoe shopping is an interruption and not on any 12 year old boy's play list today.

Adults notice in themselves the cloudy yearning that isn't quite nostalgia, but a sense of things undone, or moments misplaced. For a few there is a sense of urgency. Others touch the excitement of summer's end, remembering the promise and unrevealed anticipation of the return to school.

For them Labor Day announces what has always felt like the authentic New Year, the genuine new beginning and time for resolutions.

As with every year, Labor Day approaches with two-fold meaning.