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Do you know why the caged rose sings?

Why does the caged rose sing?



This week as the roses are making one last glorious stand against the imminent winter,  I have been running around the yard cheering them on.   Today’s bright chill and tonight’s impending freeze threatens to squeeze the life right out of them.  A surrendered rose is such a sad (though still beautiful) sight.  But tonight we gather close tonight around the fire.


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It’s not just the roses creating a spectacle. The pineapple basil, of all things, has decided to shoot off some fireworks during its last hurrah.

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Nickel “You Can Call Me Flower if You Want to” Kitty 

And there’s Nickel Kitty, who appears to be a little disgusted by all the attention being lavished on the flowers.

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Vase: $1.00 from the Goodwill

Flowers: Free from God.

Fall Beauty: Priceless.

(Who needs Mastercard?)


Farm time has been sparse this month.  More busy-away-things have been crammed into the days than the days can well hold.  Maybe more on that later. Or maybe not.

For now one must settle for fleeting glimpses of seasonal delights…

…like caterpillars in their Halloween costumes feasting on parsley,

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black pods scattered among vibrant blooms,

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scarecrows, mums and pumpkins,

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a glowing apparition,

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and a mix of things dead, dying, and holding the seeds for new life

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The roses surrender.

Defeated by frost:

their heads bowed;

their scent rendered mute.

My beautiful, but cruel mistress is creating quite the spectacle these days. She undresses, readying herself for bed, and I watch and marvel.  What a mix of colors she flings to the ground with such nonchallance.  Gold, ruby, emerald, topaz: They swirl together as they pile up beneath my rake.  It seems I am always cleaning up after this woman.


The Devil builds three-year compost bins from pallets.  (There is no rest for the wicked.)

The Devil confers with his minion.

This rascal creates mischief.

Leaves fall all around the “Greek Ruins” ensemble.

Tasty treats are harvested from the garden.

…and there is more still to ripen..

Duck tails waggle.

Sweet wildflowers bloom alongside the mean roses. (One of the mean ones bit me on the thumb several days ago.  To quote Charlie’s brother, “…that really hurt…and it’s still hurting.”)

…and we celebrate six years of a little person’s life.

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