where does the time go?

Another month and not too many posts to show for it. I can't believe how fast time flies. Still, we're in my favorite time of year - the end of the summer and beginning of autumn. The temperature is a pleasant 80 degrees, and drops gently as the sun sets so sitting in the backyard after dinner reading is a great pleasure. The crickets still hum and the birds chirp as they settle in for the night.
I was reading in the yard just last night and when twilight settled in and there was not enough light to red by I sat and watch the garden. The sky turned from a beautiful blue to pale violet and then deeper purple as the sunlight faded. The colors seemed to glow from within: the red roses like burning coals, the yellow day lilies like little magic lanterns, and the black eyed susans like shooting stars frozen in mid flight.
The crickets and cicadas were discussing who knows what in the trees and grass - a pleasant hum and rhythmic buzz. A few birds winged through the yard rushing home but they didn't offer as much as a single note in passing. The frogs and fish in the pond splashed occasionally but were silent otherwise. A dog barked somewhere in the neighborhood. A squirrel scolded me from the fence but gave up when I didn't argue back.
The light faded completely and I picked up my book and said goodnight to the wide world of my garden.

we left it oh so long ago the garden

The daffodils and tulips are poking green heads out of muddy beds. I saw a couple of robins squabbling over squatting rights in the front yard. Spring is here and it’s time to get back to the garden. I love gardening. I find I can put all the worries of life out of my mind as I trim the roses, move a plant from here to there, or back again. My wife says it’s in the blood ever since we took a trip back to the home country. We visited a lot of gardens in England and it clicked for her that gardening is a national past time for the English and, even though I have lost most (perhaps all?) traces of my birth place, I am still a subject of the queen. And so, I garden.
Our favorite gardens are the gardens of Hidcote Mansion. Ironically, the garden was designed by an American so it appears I really am a child of two worlds, old and new. The garden is laid out in a series of rooms. High hedges define the walls of each room. Each room has a different function and planting scheme.
There is a Theatre Walk, a grass meadow cut short with beautiful shade trees at the stage end – the room surrounded by a hedge easily 12 feet tall.
In the Circle, the hedges have been clipped into various shapes: pillars, giant perched birds, even a gateway. Our favorite part is the Long Walk that stretches the length of the garden. The sides of this hallway are again, tall hedges. The hallway has a series of steps that accommodate the fact that the garden is built on a hillside. At the far end a pair of tall iron gates open onto a view of the idyllic cotswold countryside. This is the image that springs to mind when I read Thomas Hardy’s books set in this very area. After strolling the gardens we stopped in the tea room where our daughter, aged 2 at the time, had her first tea.. She charmed the tea lady immediately when she, very politely, asked for “scones and tea please” in her American accent. We sipped out tea and ate our scones smothered in jam and clotted cream Sitting at that table on the covered porch gazing out on the garden with my daughter and wife is one of my treasured memories.
The title for this post comes from Larry Norman’s song “So Long Ago the Garden”. Larry Norman ended his visit of this planet Feb. 24th, 2008