Faith, Gardening, life, relationships, Spiritual Encouragement, Uncategorized
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At Summer’s End

Satisfy us in the morning

with your unfailing love,

that we may sing for joy

and be glad all our days.

{Psalm 90:14}

Just like that and summer comes to a close.

Arriving on time, autumn slips through the screen door right around Labor Day weekend.

And all those endless sundrenched days of July and August strung like daisies seem to end in a blurry blinding bright spot in my memory.


And I’m feeling reticent. Did I squander my sunny days?

Did I fail to notice the roses coming into flower? When did my columbine go to seed? Did I take time to watch the hummingbirds’ swordfight in the monarda?

Why didn’t I plant nasturtiums? Their peppery-scented orange and yellow flowers are so genial and friendly.



Did I watch as many sunsets as I could have?



I drag my feet into September although I do love school supplies and sharp pencils and regular schedules. Like a sleepy child resisting bedtime, I simply want to stomp and pout and stay awake in summer…just a little bit longer.




I want to lie on the dock and watch the meteors streak across the black sky.

I want to hear the frogs singing to the crickets’ tune while the lake water ripples and slaps the rocky shore. I want to eat s’mores.

I want to watch the honeybees crawl into the mouths of the snapdragon blossoms and wiggle their behinds, scattering pollen.




I want to spy goldfinch in the crabapple tree.

And pluck berries off of the vine and taste spring rain and summer sun in the juice. I want to hear the crack of the ball on the bat, feel the tug of a fish on the hook. Slurp soft-serve ice cream.






I reluctantly turn homeward for fall pursuits like school and stew and sweaters and long, rainy days, but I fear I’ve left summer unrequited and I’m sad.



The snap of a crisp, dewy morning is bittersweet. The chill that opens September will only lead to frosty nights and sleeping gardens and sunsets that come before dinnertime each night.


Summer is hesitant too, to pull up her skirts and skip away. She warms September days and calls me outdoors to play, or nap, or listen, a little longer in the tender sunshine. I acquiesce (of course) but I find the air altered, the slant of the sun crossing the garden seems a bit off; I can’t detect any languid, perfumed summer air, or the cool refreshment of sprinklers and cut grass, or the blazing sunshine and the lazy afternoons at the lake.

It’s all slipped away into the cool shadows of fall.



And I’m left holding the dried seed pods of the hollyhock. I drop the seeds into a bag as an offering of hope, if prematurely, for spring and the chance to pat them into dark, loamy earth.

Then I set the kettle on for tea and find my slippers and a good book.




Some people pause and examine their life lived at the close of each night, they call this practice “examen”. Some take stock each close of the year and make list of resolutions for the New Year.

Moses, asked God to “teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom” {Psalm 90:12} to look to each day as an opportunity to live it fully embracing the wonderful, painful, wild and amazing life we have here and see the powerful hand of God always at work. We can do that by both looking back and looking forward, by standing in the marvelous present, by taking breaths and listening to our own amazing heartbeats.

Living in gratitude helps us to live more fully. Living grateful to God helps us to remember that each day, each challenge, each season is a gift, an opportunity, a joy. Even in the ragged edged sorrows that we walk through, he is there. Even in the dimming memory or the unknown future, he is there. God, teach us to number our days. May we gain a heart of wisdom in the process.



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{All Photos in this post are mine, please seek permission to use. thanks!}


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