Take thy spade,
It is thy pencil;
Take thy seeds, thy plants,
They are your colours.
~William Mason, English poet, editor, and cleric
The level of sand in summer’s hour glass may be low, but, and in spite of August’s lingering heat, there is yet to come a fair measure of glory in the garden. The cycle of earth’s fruiting isn’t completely over here in north central Texas until Jack Frost’s frigid touch rings the death knell in mid-November or early December. So the remaining modicum of flowers will be joined in the coming days and weeks with substantially more blossoms. Moreover, squirrels aren’t finished gathering nuts, birds have songs yet unsung, pollinators have more rounds to make, and roses have a second flush of blooms to proffer. But most of all autumn is the time for we who “dwell in gardens” to plant, sow seeds, and raise our voices in gratitude for what the Lord has already graciously given us.
You who dwell in the gardens with friends in attendance, let me hear your voice. ~Song of Songs 8:13 ✝