09/27/2026
Well. It happened.
We had a killing frost last night.
This transition always feels like such a harsh ending to me.
Flowers you nurture from the tiniest seed. Months of watching them grow, waiting for the first blooms, and then September comes and they always seem to put on their best show.
And then overnight, it’s gone. I knew it was coming but I wasn’t ready.
Looking out the window toward the parterre garden, the leaves of the sunflowers are sagging in defeat. The grass has a coating of frost.
The roof of the garden cottage is white and glistens as the morning sun begins to hit it.
And that sunlight is what zaps the last bit of life from the flowers. Especially the tender ones.
The petals are frozen in time.
I was looking forward to my morning ritual. Walking around the farm in the stillness, with my tea in hand and taking in the wonders of the garden.
Not today, instead it’s my tea, a cozy blanket and the sun streaming through the patio door.
I know it isn’t a true ending. There will be more gardens. More seeds. More planning. More dreaming.
But first, the remnants of this year’s glory will have to be cleaned up.
Maybe it is all just another reminder to slow down and really see what is around us. To notice the beauty while it’s here. And to recognize the things we have created, nurtured and poured so much of ourselves into.
Even when the season changes, what we grew still matters.