In July, the sun sets up and throws her heat at us hard and unrelenting as a major league fastball. But during these waning days of summer, the fireball pitches its heat sidearm. The garden is also changing-up its delivery.
The color in the garden is not as abundant as much of the season, but perhaps it is the waning of the rainbow pallette that makes colors playing with each other ever more precious.
All season long- the willow- like arms of the buddleja-or butterfly bush-have extended a friendly wave to the hummers and other small birds. The clusters of flowers motioned like polished fingertips, gesturing butterflies to alight. To rest and to sip on sweet nectar. The last of these floral greeters is now waving good-bye to the flying jewels of summer.
It surprised me how lanky the butterfly bush arms can extend. Somehow, I didn’t picture the butterfly bush growing much taller than when brought home in the nursery can. But mine all matured into small fountain-shaped trees.
Twice a year I groom each up, pruning for shape and shearing for volume. They show their gratitude for such attention comes twice. Now, with immediate bouquets. Then again next year when they bloom afresh at the ends of new growth.


It is a part of life's landscape that sometimes our troubles will mount. They will stack one upon the other until they loom over us like a mountain. As we try to climb our way out of our troubles, we tire. Our footing becomes as unsure as our spirit. We wonder how close we are to personal disaster.














