Senescence.

Senescence. In other words, living and dying all at once.
Today was the first day when it was very clear that summer has gone and autumn has arrived. Overcast skies and cool winds. I needed to wear long sleeves to work outside. And that's where I was when I thought of senescence.
I pulled out my annuals and cleaned out the flower pots. I put my lawn chairs away and moved the plants that will come inside in a few weeks on to the deck. The Mr. mowed the lawn talking about just a few more times to do that this year. I swept and put away flower pots until next summer and then I sat down on my deck to relax for a moment. My yard is in senescence. It was only a few months ago that I was almost beside myself waiting for warm weather to finally come. Planting seeds and buying hanging flowers; a few every weekend. It was only a short time ago that I bought orange and green cushions for my lawn furniture and started one of many ponds until Donny finally stopped trying to rescue the water plants by throwing them on to dry land. Only a little while since I first sat on the deck with my morning coffee in this new old house. The first summer without my gramma and grampa.
It doesn't take me by surprise anymore how quickly summer flies past us. And being a Michigander, I'm always ready for the next season. Now I'm munching on Honey Crisp apples and sleeping with open windows and cold night air and enjoying it. I put a few Halloween candle holders here and there and am planning having friends over for chilli or some such cool weather dinner next week. So I can't say that I'm heartbroken that summer is gone and fall is here. And the same will happen when fall is gone and winter is here. And then again, if the Lord ordains, I'll venture out onto the deck in bare feet to drink my coffee in the warm sunshine.
And I, like the yard, will be in senescence. There will be wrinkles a little deeper around my eyes and my hands will look older. There will be more gray when my roots start to show and I can predict yet more vericose veins.
This year I planted only annuals. Cheaper. So as the cold nights get colder, I will wake up one morning to find the last marigold is brown and dead and there will be not one more tomato on my vines. When the earth turns warm again, those flowers and vegetables will not come back. They were only meant for one season. Next year I will plant perennials, I will invest in flowers that will outlast me. I'm home now and there is no need for temporary gardening.
We are approaching a year since my gramma died, in November. So this is the last round for me of thinking "this time last year she was alive." I remember last year's skies turning overcast and wind blowing colder. We knew then that time was growing short for summer and for my gramma. And much like my readiness for the change of seasons, I was ready for that one too. Sad that it was over. Joy that the seasons prior had been so sweet.
Senescence. Like perennials that will push through frozen ground and cold dark days to bloom with vigor, I will grow older this year. And the next. And like a perennial and like my gramma, I will one day go to sleep in cold earth and darkness. And like a perennial and like my gramma, I will push away winter to live again. Glorious life without senescence. One day.
To everything there is a season...and for me joy in these mornings until I awaken in that one.