The garden is in its late autumn beauty now: seed heads mark where the full garden glory once stood.
The larch tree has dropped its needles, and a few fallen branches with cones are treasures to me.
The feverfew and lady's mantle are a froth of dried flowers at the edges of the beds. Rosemary and thyme offer still-green beauty; the rose gives its loveliness.
I gather bits of the garden into little bundles to bring inside. I'm not ready to say goodbye.