Too old for saplings

It is the first day of Fall. My gardens have endured torrential Spring rains, a Summer of drought and the crazy experiment of hugel kulture. They look like overgrown mortar craters. Now I know why nobody posts pictures of their raised beds after the harvest. They just look buffugly. Every garden is having a bad hair day.

The tomato plants, now crunchy and leggy are still producing the odd misshapen tomato fruit. The Giant Amaranth has either fallen over from the relentless wind or is putting out clusters of seed heads. I'm hoping for a decent harvest if the birds don't beat me to it.

None of the fruit trees have died yet but the Pecans look dubious. They are stunted, broken from hail and neglect. The once proud stand of Maples that circled the yard are also soon to see their last Winter. They are held together only because the termites are holding hands. The leaves have long fallen and the branches snap off, brittle and lifeless.

This is the progress of life and growing things. They flourish, nourish and then perish.I see bonfires in my future and lots of chipping and shredding to make mulch. I used to mourn the loss of a tree and now I just register it like I do a shooting star or a sunrise. I see it and say "Ah how beautiful, I saw it..."

Jane Fonda once said it was her indulgence to plant mature trees because she was too old for saplings. I use this wisdom to justify paying insane amounts of money for a bigger tree. I have let my grey hair show, refusing to dye it anymore. I don't want to look younger than my age. I am too old for saplings.