Like the rest of the country, and really, much of the rest of the world, we’ve been huddled inside the house, mourning and watching the September 11th news coverage, not tending to the garden.
Eventually, though, we just had to get outside. Frank went out and moved firewood and drove tractors last night, restless. I made it almost around the deck, deadheading madly and drastically. It’s been two weeks, really, since it’s had any attention, and I had to be pretty heavy handed with the pruning. But there’s some connection there that I felt as I was cutting the plants back pretty hardily — they will come back, stronger than ever.
So we we all.