I love this end of the summer season in the flower gardens. The end is near, so I no longer feel compelled to pull every weed or bit of crabgrass – I now pull up only those weeds that dwarf the flowers or threaten to take over the garden. Fallen leaves begin to blow into the beds. The purple morning glory has ventured across the garden and mixes with the basil and the roses. In the spring, I wonder why I plant marigolds, and in the fall I remember, for now they are the most brilliant players. Yellow zinnias and pink petunias have grown long and leggy, and the lily gives one last squeak of a blossom. A few sunflowers still blossom, but most have become places for the birds to perch and feed. Whatever early May plan I had for the garden is forgotten – whether it was a success or not no longer matters. The chrysanthemums begin to show color, but aside from the morning glories and marigolds, everything else is gasping its last. It’s a time of acceptance - of appreciating the beauty that is there and overlooking the rest. It’s a welcome contrast to life at the church, where the fall brings more to do and greater expectations. I love this season in the flower garden.