It is the hottest night of the summer, and I’m watering my gardens.
I begin with the potatoes and dwarf gray sugar peas. The soil is dry, and I feel the plants breathing a sigh of relief as the cool water lands softly on their leaves.
Rustling in the nearby woods catches my attention. Too slight a noise to be a deer, the sounds are that of a smaller animal. I see a chipmunk scurrying into the green underbrush, carrying a hazel nut in its mouth. It disappears into the thick forest vegetation surrounding my garden.
With a twinge of regret, I note that the shrubs and grasses are already turning yellow, and hazel nuts are ripening. Another summer is quickly slipping away.
But life is too short to dwell on the passing of time, so I take a deep breath, inhale the scent of late summer and enjoy the evening. Many song birds have already moved south, but the chinking sounds of a small woodpecker high in a birch tree catch my attention. Another woodpecker lands in a nearby tree with a soft cheep that is muted in the deepening dusk.
The water falls softly from the hose as I direct the spray in a gentle arc. The potatoes in this patch are tall, lanky. Hopefully, they’ll yield a good harvest, but with gardening, you never know…
I move to another garden section and water the onions, giving them a long good drink, then drag the hose over to my latest addition. This spring, I planted raspberries, and as I adjust the hose nozzle and direct a stream of water at them, see that they are doing well. The evening sky is diffused with the golden glow of an August setting sun, and the air is slightly hazy. I dream of bowls full of raspberries and cream that are sure to come next year. If I’m lucky.
I drag the hose to my flower garden where I’ve inserted a mini-veggie garden of zucchini, radishes and dill and give them a good soaking. The bright yellow zucchini blossoms contrast the purple Echinacea flowers in a pleasant color combination, but the dill stalks are small and not very tall. I give them an extra drink.
As the twilight deepens, I give the potted tomatoes a good long drink, wondering if they will actually ripen on the vine, then turn my attention to a pet project—ground cherry plants. The taste of yellow ground cherries is one of my favorite childhood memories, so I ordered several plants this spring, knowing full well that this northern climate was probably too cool for successful ripening.
I’m happy to see that several husks are ripe. Turning off the hose, for just a minute, I pick one, remove the papery shell and bite into the tiny yellow globe. Yup. Ground cherries are as tasty now as they were in my childhood.
As the light fades, loons call out on the lake, creating a perfect end of the day scenario. When I turn off the hose, memories of my mother, who loved to spend her twilights watering the flowers surrounding our Minneapolis house, fill my mind. As always, I’m happy I inherited her “evening watering” gene.
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