Fin de la saison au jardin communautaire

Ink and watercolor drawing on Stonehenge, 10" x 5"

The colors are subdued; the foliage, for the most part, shorn; the flowers faded. It's the end of the season. 

It was a good year in the garden. I was especially happy with my delphinium and sweet peas and dahlias, and the general look of the massed perennials - after three years, the garden filled in and came into its own this season. Doing these drawings has been good, too: I feel like I "grew" an illustration style that has gotten looser as the year has gone on, and given some pleasure to the other gardeners too.

This morning I went over to dig up my dahlias: a final, last-minute task. Other gardeners were there, and we moved a large pile of wet, black compost, supplied by the city, inside the garden gates; the top of the pile was frozen, as was the surface of the ground underfoot. Afterward we all sat at a picnic table in the sun and talked, wearing hats and gloves, over a bottle of good porto -- a garden tradition for the last day -- and some apple cider. The French chatter flew around me; I'm getting more of it these days, and can put a word in every now and then. But language didn't matter; these are my friends now, and the warmth among us is very real.

That's the happiness of gardening communally - seeing and admiring what others are doing,  sharing the beauty as well as the work, contributing what we're each good at, making friends, exchanging plants, going together on trips to nurseries and the botanical garden. By the same token, I've cherished the times when I was at the garden all alone: precious moments of nature and quiet in the middle of a huge city. Now the garden will become very silent indeed, as we wait for the blanket of snow that will protects the roots from freezing and thawing. Am I ready? Not really, but we never are, are we?

Comments

[Frances/Materfamilias]

Charming, thank you. . .

[Jean]

Your drawings of the garden have been such a pleasure. The fusion of two joys and passions - and it shows.

[Barbara]

Your drawings are so beautiful. I can *FEEL* a sense of being there ... dried leaves, dying plants, wet dirt.

You have an incredible gift. Thank you for sharing it with me.

Barb

[Vivian]

The buildings rising up behind , seemingly so carelessly blocked in, are a presence of such an utterly different order than the vegetation... they really show what a gift your city garden is to you and others... Thank you.

[Marja-Leena]

Lovely work and words, Beth. As another gardener I feel ths same wistfulness with the passing of the growing season to one of rest, though it's not quite as cold here.

[Andrea]

Nice drawing! You obviously spent time on it, but it has a nice unlaboured look.

[Beth]

Thank you, Frances, thank you Jean.

Barb, it's so nice to hear from you. Thank you very much for such a lovely compliment. I'm really happy that my drawings give you pleasure! I love doing them, and sharing them, and trying to learn from each one.

Vivian, thanks for noticing the buildings! They're important to the meaning and I thought a lot about how much emphasis to give them...

Yes, Marja-Leena, I know you know what it's like to mourn the end of the growing season. But you're lucky - your snowdrops will be up again in just a few months!

Thanks, Andrea -- I'm glad if that's the case! It's easy to overwork drawings like this.

[Hattie]

So lovely. Do miss the change of seasons sometimes.