She carries on her way as if winter will never come, growing and letting the life burst out of her. I suppose I should take the shears and trim her back, but I don’t have the heart. After all she’s kept her part of the bargain all year long and now, in her last verdant flush, she deserves to be allowed to do what she wants. A little anarchy before the winter and the bareness it brings arrive to dull her passion..
I am constantly surprised with what still grows. I’d forgotten I had planted red sunflowers, and the regular sunflowers and dahlias continue to bloom. The foxgloves have taken on a lot of leaf , the Chinese chrysanthemums have trebled in size and the nasturtiums – the ones that I was sure I’d weeded out - have miraculously appeared to add small splashes of yellow and orange and large round leaves to the jumble that she has become.