When the Immortal Bard set quill to quire
writing the sentiment that parting is such
sweet sorrow it was meant to adorn the
Medieval romance of star-lost lovers yet
the phrase is entirely apropos in twinning
gardens with their gardeners and at this season
of fall for those who lavish lovingly tender care
on all that erupts from the soil to thrive and
thrill throughout the growing season the
phrase resonates. Tomatoes, ripe and unripe
harvested, marigolds plucked from their
post-frost misery joined by impatiens and
begonias, zinnias and asters, all to become
sadly composted destined to fertilize the
growing medium for next year's crop of
dazzling beauties. For the present and until
the snow flies when all become a distant
memory, their dated expiration is mourned as
the garden is tidied and prepared for slumber
in a reprise of a desolately emotional play.
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