By Barbara Falconer Newhall
I took these photos of my favorite up-north garden last October. It’s a genuine four-season garden in the upper Midwest, complete with winter snow, spring promise, and unsurpassed summer glory. It’s also got autumn, with all the grim stuff that happens as winter sets in — death, rot, shrivel and retreat.
But during a late afternoon visit last October there were still some signs of stubborn life — opulent red berries and a succulent with in-your-face magenta blossoms.
A Dying Garden and a Healing Ankle
I’m just now getting around to posting these autumn in the garden photos because the project fell by the wayside last November when Jon broke his left fibula and tore the deltoid ligament right off the bone. Surgery ensued, and Jon was semi-bedridden for weeks.
I took over just about everything around the house, from setting up a hospital bed in front of our flat screen TV, to emptying urinals, to retrieving the TV remote if it fell under the bed. It’s been two months now. The bone has healed, the ligament seems to be safely stitched back to its bone, Jon is up and about and, lucky me, I’m down five pounds from all that running around.