Sweet peas are fantastic – the simple essence of summer – and for three months we have had bunch after bunch of the fragrant blooms filling the house. I planted them in March, they were flowering by June, and they have been beautiful. So taking them down is in someways a sad thing to do. I don’t much like the shortening days and the passing of summer. The other day a passing dog walker remarked, “I don’t mind the darker mornings.” My reply? “I hate it!”
Yet there is also something I enjoy about the autumnal tidying of the garden. I like clearing some space, where everything has become overgrown. I like to see the soil again, and attain a sense of cleanness. I like the anticipation – that come next spring that bare space will again be filled, by something beautiful, or edible, or (best of all) both.
And I like the feeling of getting in rhythm with the times as they are meant to be, because,
There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot (Eccl. 3:1-2).
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