the killing frost

I’ve always loved that term. It sounds so brutal, and it is, but it’s also intensely evocative, and I love me some evoking.

After a weekend in Virginia singing at the Forbes Center for the Performing Arts at James Madison University, I came home to dead fields in Maine. It was going to happen sooner or later, and our first frost date is technically in 5 days, so probability was high. I won’t pretend I’m not disappointed. But it isn’t the first disappointment or frustration in this year, so I’ll just add it to the list, pour a glass of wine tonight, and start my planning for cleanup and 2020. There’s also going to be a bit of sourcing that happens to make sure that our October bride gets some gorgeous flowers for her wedding in a few weeks! If we’re looking for a silver lining. Which we are.

In a way, there isn’t really a rest time now that there is land involved. And I’m glad for that. I like my rest to be intentional and not forced upon me by external circumstances. Control freak, anyone? *raises hand* Present. So I’ll get the dead plants out, bulb trenches in, dahlia tubers up, cold hard seeds down, and perennials settled into their forever homes in the next few weeks. I had been hoping to take some cuttings of dahlias before they were all the way dead so I could try my hand at growing them in pots inside over the winter, but that’ll keep for next year too. It’s probably time to have the two new fields cut in before winter time as well. So there will be plenty to keep me busy. I feel like my Instagram is flooded with growers who are like “PHEW. That couldn’t happen soon enough, I am pooped!” and while I totally get that, wow do I not feel it at all. I just only feel grumpy still. But you don’t get ungrumpy by telling yourself not to feel grumpy. So I’m going to make a fire, pour that wine, and watch something on the toob. Enjoy your weekend, friends!

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