Quiet Benediction: Love in the Letting Go
 
“I will cut adrift. I will sit on pavements and drink coffee. I will dream; I will take my mind out of its iron cage and let it swim this fine October.”
—Virginia Woolf
 
The coffee is hot, sweet with cream. I ventured into the Garden this autumn morning to take in its fading beauty. There’s something exquisite in the way flowers surrender to time. In this “Thin Time” of late October and early November, we feel the closing of a season of growth and abundance. The harvest is nearly finished. With the fading light, winter’s cold and darkness begin to stir.
 
The Garden’s slow decay speaks of resilience. It reminds us that decline can reveal inner strength. I’ve grieved the wilting of flowers. The roses are slipping into hibernation, and we remember why we planted them in the first place. We share stories of those who came before us. We remember the good things. We remember the connections that brought joy—and we continue to heal.
 
I’m learning to leave more of the Garden to nature. I no longer tidy it as I once did. I leave it for the small critters to shelter from the brutal cold ahead. And I’ve found beauty in the decay. There’s elegance in the way these once-vibrant plants continue to give back to the earth.
 
Each plant still holds its essence. Its history lingers as the days grow shorter. We watch and wonder. We pray and hope. We hold fast to faith and cling to love.
 
I know I’m in the autumn years myself. Bound by the rhythms of change and time. In this Thin Time, I feel the tug of history—the presence of those who shaped me. The older I get, the more I cling to the stories. Autumn calls us to reflect on who we were and where we’re going. Nothing truly lasts, yet we’re drawn to our shared humanity. We believe that every ending is also a beginning.
 
A bit of faith.
A bit of hope.
A bit of love.
A bit of gardening.
 
“The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever.”
—Isaiah 40:8

Looking Up: Where Trust Is Sown in Silence
 
It’s a cloudy morning in the Garden. The kind of sky that invites stillness. I spend so much time looking down—at the soil, the roots, the work beneath my feet—that I often forget to lift my gaze and see the grandeur above. The clouds drifting overhead are more than weather; they are quiet teachers of change, movement, and mystery. They carry us into deeper communion with the Creator of all things.
 
I rarely pause to consider the spiritual significance of the sky. Yet this dark, brooding morning mirrors my own emotions and beckons me toward quiet reflection. There’s something sacred in the gloom—a call to embrace the currents of life, to quiet the noise, and to listen for clarity. These moments ask us to dig deeper, to seek understanding not just of the path, but of the One who walks it with us.
 
Today, I gazed upward and listened to the whispers. The clouds seem to speak: Pause. Listen. Be still. They stretch across the heavens like a canvas of mystery, inviting us to ponder the vastness of creation and the intimacy of divine presence.
 
I needed this reminder—to open my heart and feel a sense of belonging again. To hear the whisper of love nudging me toward trust, even when trust feels hard. I look into the dark clouds and search for rain, and in that searching, I find comfort. We are not alone. The Creator is still creating. The Creator is still communicating.
 
So, take a moment. Listen. Participate in the beautiful conversation unfolding all around you—in the sky, in the silence, in the soul.
 
Where trust is sown in silence, grace grows unseen.
“He covers the sky with clouds; he supplies the earth with rain…” — Psalm 147:8

The Grace of Letting Go
Autumn is my favorite time of year that invites reflection, especially in the garden. It’s when I pause to consider what thrived, what faltered, and what lessons quietly bloomed beneath the surface. The shifting light and cooler air seem to whisper slow down, take stock, breathe.
 
This year is wrapping up, and this old gardener is wondering where the days have gone. My “to-do” list still lingers, half-checked and hopeful. Meanwhile, the Dogwood tree outside my window is shedding its leaves in shades of amber and orange. As I watch them drift to the ground, I’m reminded to release some of the burdens I’ve been carrying. Letting go, like the trees do, is its own kind of grace.
 
Autumn is nature’s gentle nudge that change is inevitable—and beautiful. It’s the season of the great turning, where endings and beginnings swirl together in golden light. Lessons lie scattered like leaves, waiting to be gathered.
 
"Anyone who thinks fallen leaves are dead has never watched them dancing on a windy day." –Shira Tamir
 
Autumn’s transformation is in full force now—leaves ablaze in red, orange, and yellow. This visual symphony is more than seasonal charm; it’s a poignant reminder that change can be breathtaking. The falling leaves teach us to release what no longer serves, to make space for rest, renewal, and the quiet promise of what’s to come.
 
"To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven." —Ecclesiastes 3:1
 
Autumn reminds us that even in the shedding, there is sacred timing. The garden doesn’t mourn the falling leaves—it trusts the rhythm of renewal. In our own lives, we’re invited to do the same: to release what no longer serves, to rest in the quiet, and to believe that new growth will come. The beauty of change lies not just in what we see, but in learning to let go.

Rain Brings Renewal
Let it rain.
 
Yesterday, I woke up to a light, misty sprinkle in the air, and my heart filled with hope. But the joy was short-lived. The rain passed quickly, leaving behind only clouds. No rain. No sun.
 
Emily Logan Decens once said, “Rain showers my spirit and waters my soul.” This long drought is draining the garden. Watering helps sustain it, but it can’t replace the heavenly moisture that truly gives life and renews. This is no ordinary dry spell—it’s a severe drought. 
 
I feel like I’m in a drought too. A spiritual one. I need something to shower my spirit and water my soul. I’ve been searching for faith and hope in these troubled times. And it’s there—I catch glimpses of it, just like that fleeting sprinkle yesterday. We know this is only a season. The rain will return, gentle and comforting. They’ll remind us that there’s beauty in something as simple as a rain shower.
 
We’ll find comfort when we open our eyes and look for it.
 
“As the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish… so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire.” —Isaiah 55:10–11
 
Let it rain.
 
In seasons of drought—we are invited to wait with hope. The mist may come and go, the clouds may linger, but the promise remains: renewal is on its way.
 
Just as the garden receives rain and, once again, flourishes, so too will our spirits renew when we open ourselves to grace. Even when the skies feel silent let us believe that faith and hope, like rain, will not disappoint.
 
So today, we lean into the quiet, listen for the whisper of comfort, and welcome the rain—whenever it comes.
 
Let it rain.

Thin Places and Ripening Fruit
Listening for the holy in the hush of October
 
Another warm, sunny morning in the Carondelet Garden. The raspberries are beginning to ripen in abundance, and there’s a gladness that rises with them. Their deepening color, their quiet transformation, it’s as if you can taste the sweetness in the air before the fruit ever touches your lips.
 
These are the moments that matter: the ones when we pause and breathe. As we move through this season, placing one foot in front of the other, we’re invited to slow down and listen—not just to the words spoken, but to the silences between them. In those pauses lie the nuances of conversation, the breath of the Creator, and the quiet turning of the ordinary into the extraordinary.
 
It’s in stillness that we find the Thin Places, the sacred spaces where heaven brushes earth. But we must be willing to stop, to listen, to receive.
 
This morning, I pause. And in the silence, I sense the potential for discovery, for grace, for something more. The garden hums with quiet invitation, and I am reminded: “Be still, and know that I am God.” In the stillness, the sacred becomes visible. In the hush, the holy draws near.

​Thin Places, Deep Wells
 
On this first Friday in October, the skies are blue and the sun is shining. It’s a beautiful morning in the garden, where we continue our watering routine—still waiting on heavenly moisture that’s been scarce these past weeks.
 
I stepped outside to pick up our newspapers. Yes, I’m that kind of old man—I still read the news on actual newsprint, delivered to my doorstep each morning. Though I must admit, it’s becoming harder and harder to wrap my head around the headlines.
 
One of the great tragedies of our time is this: we know more than ever about the pain and suffering in the world, and yet we feel increasingly powerless to change it. I’m convinced we are all broken in some way. But those who embrace their brokenness are the ones who will be transformed.
 
Pain and suffering can reshape us—if we let them. They can carve out space in our hearts for more light to enter. If we identify only with our wounds, we risk living in them and eventually becoming more hurtful ourselves. But if we draw from the deepest well of love within us—if we become that well for others—we tap into a source that never runs dry.
 
 Love begets love. Goodness begets goodness. We can be the change we long to see.
 
“The Lord will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail.” —Isaiah 58:11
 
May we draw from that spring today. May we become like that well to others.

​October as a Thin Place
October arrives like a whispered invitation. The air cools, the leaves begin their slow, fiery descent, and something ancient stirs beneath the surface of things. In Celtic spirituality, this season is known for its “thin places”—moments and locations where the veil between the physical and spiritual worlds grows diaphanous, where heaven brushes earth and the sacred feels startlingly near.
 
Marcus Borg, in The Heart of Christianity, describes thin places as intersections between two layers of reality: “October, with its golden hush and deepening shadows, seems to cradle these moments. The rustle of leaves, the scent of woodsmoke, the early twilight, all invite us to pause, to listen, to notice.”
 

​Jeremiah 6:16 beckons us: “Stand at the crossroads and look and ask for the ancient paths where the good way lies; and walk in it and find rest for your souls.”
 
October is a crossroads. A turning. A sacred pause. May we stand in it with reverence. May we ask for the ancient paths. And may we—graced and willing—take off our shoes.
 
I felt this recently in my own garden. I stepped outside and the air was hushed, almost reverent. A monarch hovered near the Lantana, lingering longer than usual. I stood still, on dew-damp earth, and for a moment, I felt the veil lift. Not dramatically, not with fanfare—but quietly, like a breath held and then released. It was as if the garden itself whispered, “You are not alone.” That moment stayed with me all day, a thin place tucked into the folds of ordinary time.

Welcoming October: A Breath of Change
As September draws to a close, I feel the shift in the air. After the relentless heat of summer, it’s time for a long, cleansing breath. The mornings arrive with a crispness that whispers of change. Leaves begin their slow transformation, dressing in their autumn best. October is nearly here, and with it comes a quiet turning, a subtle invitation to reflect, realign, and prepare.
​
This season is a threshold. Autumn calls us to harvest what we've sown, to gather wisdom from the year’s growth, and to prepare ourselves for the inward journey toward winter. It’s a time to pause and listen, to honor the rhythms of nature and spirit.
 
Our Jewish friends mark this season with Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur—a sacred time of renewal, forgiveness, and spiritual cleansing. These observances remind us that change is not only external but internal. In the spirit of this season, we echo the ancient prayer: “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me” (Psalm 51:10). What a tender invitation to release what no longer serves us and step forward with intention.
 
Let us finish September by leaning into transformation. May we seek balance, celebrate our spiritual growth, and honor the ongoing journey—within ourselves and with one another.

A Moment of Grace in the Garden
One of my favorite things in the garden is when something unexpected just happens. A surprise that makes us slow down, look twice, and smile. It helps, of course, when you spend an inordinate amount of time puttering about, noticing the small things.
 
This year, we discovered a cluster of Moss Rose plants springing up seemingly out of nowhere. We certainly hadn’t planted them among the peonies—but there they were, bold and beautiful. We gently dug them up and moved them to a sunnier spot where they could truly thrive. Now, each morning, they greet us along the walking path—a quiet offering of grace.
 
This morning, we find grace in the garden.
 
We come for peace, escaping the noise of the outside world. It’s early and still. The birds sing softly in the background. My coffee is warm in my hands, a comfort on this slightly chilly September morning.
We come for beauty—and walk away slightly transformed.
 
We come to share a moment in creation with our Creator. A moment of prayer. A prayer for renewed hope. A prayer to become more loving. More gentle. More tender.
 
"Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness." — Lamentations 3:22–23
 
A moment of grace in the garden.
 
May you find your own moment of grace today—unexpected, unearned, and quietly blooming where you least expect it. That’s all the news from here in the Carondelet Garden.

The rains of the past few days have been a welcome sight here in the Carondelet Garden in south Saint Louis.  We should see mostly cloudy skies today with a few more showers developing this afternoon.  Highs are quite lovely in the mid 70s with winds out of the NNE at 5 to 10 MPH.

As gentle rain fell on the Garden these past few days, emotions rose to the surface like steam from sun-warmed soil. Late summer and early autumn rains have always stirred something deep within me—a quiet ache, a sacred remembering. Rain carries a spiritual weight, a timeless symbol of renewal and cleansing.
 
It often feels like a cosmic reset button. Water, the universal purifier, washes away what’s heavy—impurities, weariness, lingering negativity. The heavens open, and grace pours down, offering us a new beginning. Across many spiritual traditions, rain signifies release: of burdens, guilt, and stagnant energy.
 
Picture yourself standing in a soft drizzle, the weight of a hard day dissolving with each drop. This gentle cleansing invites us to surrender what no longer serves, making space for clarity, healing, and growth.
 
After our long drought, we needed this rain more than ever. The recent showers have revived the garden—and this old gardener. The parched soil drinks deeply, and so does my spirit. The rain has been a quiet mercy, a balm for both the land and my heart.
 
Rain down on me.
Rain down on me.
 
That's all the news from here in the Carondelet Garden.

It’s Finally Here! Happy Fall, Y’all!

Today, September 22, 2025, marks the autumnal equinox—the celestial signal that fall has officially arrived in the Northern Hemisphere. At exactly 2:19 p.m. EDT, the sun will hover directly above the equator, bringing our long, hot summer to a graceful close.
​
This astronomical moment happens like clockwork each September, usually on the 22nd or 23rd. And during the equinox, something magical occurs: the sun rises almost due east and sets nearly due west, casting a balanced glow across most of the globe (except at the poles, where things are always a bit more dramatic).
 
While many folks consider the equinox the “official” start of fall, there’s no governing body that stamps it with approval. It’s more of a poetic transition than a bureaucratic one—and I’m here for it.
 
Interestingly, while astronomers say summer ends today, meteorologists and climatologists wrapped it up back on August 31, the final day of the year’s hottest stretch. Honestly? I tend to agree. For me, fall begins when Labor Day weekend fades into memory. The pools close, the school bells ring, and suddenly everything feels like pumpkin spice and possibility.
 
The equinox reminds me of the beauty in balance—light and dark, growth and rest, holding on and letting go. Spiritually, it feels like an invitation to pause and realign. Just as the sun finds its midpoint, I find myself seeking equilibrium in my own life. What needs harvesting? What needs releasing? Autumn, with all its crisp air and golden light, nudges me toward deeper reflection and quiet gratitude.
“He made the moon to mark the seasons, and the sun knows when to go down.” — Psalm 104:19
There’s comfort in knowing that even the heavens move in harmony, guided by divine timing.

A lovely morning here in the Carondelet Garden.  We had a little bit of rain earlier.  The clouds are still hanging around and we could see a stray shower or thunderstorm pop up this morning.  Otherwise, we should see a mix of sun and clouds with highs in the upper 80s.  A bit cooler than we've seen recently and the cooling trend should continue through the weekend.  A welcome respite from this recent heatwave. Winds will be out of the SW at 5 to 10 MPH.  Bring on the rain!

It's been a few weeks to say the very least.  I've been trying to pray.  Trying to find a place of hope.  Prayers is meant to bring us to see the world as God sees the world.  It is meant to expand our vision, not to trap us in the world that is only ourselves.  To live with no life in us is a curse of its own making.  Yet, I continue to struggle.  I seek and struggle to find. But I continue to seek.  I have no choice.  I still believe, Lord.  Help my unbelief.  It's been a few weeks. 

I'm heading out soon to walk the Doodle and then to the Garden for some weeding.  As I pull the weeds in the Garden I am praying for hope.  Praying to see the world as God sees the world.  Expand my vision.  Amen.

A beautiful morning here in the Carondelet Garden.  The skies are filled with bright sunshine and the bluest of skies.  We should see plentiful sunshine all day with zero-percent chance of rain.  It's going to be another hot one with temperatures in the mid-90s.  Winds are light and variable.  Another day with no rain.  The drought is real here in south Saint Louis.

The watering continues today.  We are trying to keep things alive in the heat and drought but some plants are starting to show some major stress.  We are hoping to keep them alive and that they will recover before Winter sets in.  We keep at it and hope for the best while preparing for the worst.

We have been keeping ourselves very busy and trying to avoid the loud and the angry and embrace a bit of hope and love.  Not easy in today's world to be sure.  This morning it is a cup of coffee and some classical music playing on the Smart Speaker.  A little relaxation and a bit of playtime with the Doodle Dog.  Be good to yourself this mid-week day.  Be kind to others along your way.  That's all the news from here in the Carondelet Garden.

It is still hot here in the Carondelet Garden and it looks like the heat is going to stick around through most of the week but the weekend looks lovely and we might even see a shower or two on Saturday!  Today we should see a mix of sun and clouds.  A very small chance of rain this afternoon.  Highs in the mid 90s with winds out of the ENE at 5 to 10 MPH.  

The Veggies are busting out all over.  We are getting a second wave of Patio Eggplant, and they are simply delicious.  The Peppers have been a miracle.  We've never had so many and they keep coming.  The Winter Squash, Spinach and Lettuce are coming along as well.  We are also trying for a second round of Snow Peas.  The first round were a huge disappointment.  Things are looking good this time around.  We are very excited about the Raspberries.  They are simply bursting with fruit this year.  Can't wait for Raspberry Preserves!

The Garden has given us such solace these past few days.  A needed sanctuary from the noise and anger and chaos all around us.  Take a moment to find some solace this week.  Turn down the noise.  Escape for a moment and recharge.  Pray.  Meditate.  Relax. Do whatever you need to keep going.  Be good to yourself and kind to others, especially right now.  That's all the news from here in the Carondelet Garden.

Sunny skies in the Garden this morning.  It's going to be pretty hot with highs in the mid 90s and winds light and variable.  A nice day but still very dry!

This lovely hummingbird has been a constant visitor to the Garden this year.  We have nicknamed her "Betty Bird" (I have no idea if this is a male or female, so my apologies in advance).  We call her Betty Bird after Dr. B's mom.  The little hummingbird visits on most days and flitters about the garden looking for a snack or possibly a quick drink from the bubbling fountain.  She was a welcome sight yesterday.  Our nation has become so angry and divided.  It seems to worsen every single day.  More violence and death.  More rhetoric and inflammatory actions from the people who should be leading us to a better way.  

I am an old man, and I'm frightened by the anger and division.  I've always believed that what was wrong with our nation could be overcome by what is so right about our nation.  I'm worried that may no longer be true.  I'm fighting so hard and trying to hang on to a bit of hope.  My faith is weak, and my hope is failing.  I'm clinging to love.  I'm holding on to love.  Love for my family.  Love for my friends.  Love for my neighbors.  Love for those I disagree with.  Love for those I don't really like but I'm trying to love them anyway.  In the end love is the only way to win.  It is all we have to fight the anger.  It is all we have to fight craziness.  It is all we have.  Love is all we have.  As the song says, "love is all we need."  

This morning I'm looking for Betty Bird. Searching for a bit of hope and faith and holding on to some love.  I'm still afraid.  I'm still angry.  I'm still frustrated.  But the hummingbird helps.  The Garden heals my weary soul.  A little grace in the form of a hummingbird to bolster hope on a Friday morning in September.  That's all the news from here in the Carondelet Garden.

We headed out to the Garden under partly cloudy skies this mid-week morning in south Saint Louis.  It's going to be warmer than yesterday with highs in the upper 80s with light and variable winds.  We have a morning routine of watering, watering, watering these past few weeks with no sign of relief in the long-term forecast.  On top of it, the heat is going to return, albeit not the massive heat waves we have experienced earlier in the summer.  The next seven days calls for high temperatures in the mid to upper 90s.  Buckle up, Fall has not really arrived just yet!

A harbinger of the soon-to-be Autumn are the return of the Monarch Butterflies to the Garden.  What a sight to behold.  The flying works of art with their orange and black fluttering about reminding us that the seasons are changing.  They don't stick around for very long but they are glorious while they are here.  It has been a grace-filled few days in the Garden with the Monarchs, the Swallowtails and the hummingbirds all feeding and flitting about.  I've been praying to be filled with more gratitude and there is nothing that I am more thankful for than these beautiful creatures in my Garden.

There is a wonderful quote by Melodie Beattie that says, "Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend."  Gratitude turns what we have into enough, and more!  Enough... and more!  Amen to that!

The watering continues. The Garden is looking good right now.  The Fall lettuce and spinach and squash are doing their thing.  The peppers are producing like gangbusters.  It's a good day in the Garden.  It's a good day to be grateful.  Thankful for the bounty of Creation.  That's all the news from here in the Carondelet Garden.

Another beautiful, sunny start to the day here in the Carondelet Garden.  Still no rain to speak of and we are really getting dry!  The sunshine will be around all day with highs in the upper 70s and winds out of the ESE at 5 to 10 MPH.  It is absolutely gorgeous in the Garden on this Monday morning in September.

We had some delightful visitors to the Garden yesterday.  The Swallowtail Butterflies are enjoying the brightly colored flowers, especially the Lantana right now.  It brings such joy and grace to the Garden as these flying works of art flitter about in the sunshine sucking up energy for the journey. 

It is sometimes hard to remember to be grateful in these trying times.  Yet, we are grateful.  Thankful for the beauty of the Garden and the serenity it brings.  Grateful for good friends, old and new.  Grateful for the most amazing of neighbors who are very much family.  Grateful for the grace of family both chosen and born.  We are indeed blessed by our Creator with incredible lives that are full and abundant.  We are thankful.  We are grateful.  We must remember!  That's all the news from here in the Carondelet Garden.

It's a bit cloudy here in the Carondelet Garden on this first Friday in September.  We should see mostly cloudy skies this afternoon with a slight chance of a rain shower (we can only hope!)  Highs should be in the low to mid-70s with winds out of the NW at 10 to 15 MPH.

Today would have been my Dad's 89th birthday and my parents' 72nd wedding anniversary.  Yes, I did the math correctly.  My parents married on my Dad's 17th birthday.  A different time and a different era.  Mom has been gone for twenty years and Dad left us seventeen years ago. It feels like forever and yesterday at the same time.  I still remember their 50th Wedding Anniversary party.  My Mom was not in a good place, and we all knew it was a matter of time but together they celebrated.  Like so many theirs was not a perfect life or a perfect love but they worked.  Ups and downs. Crooked roads and straight they travelled through life together.  In so many ways I believe Dad died of a broken heart.  The first time I ever saw my Dad cry was when my Mom passed.  

I remember giving his eulogy at the funeral.  I told his friends and family that Dad had his bags packed.  He knew where he was going.  He knew he would reunite with Mom and he had a faith stronger than anyone I've ever met.  He was a very black and white, good and bad, right and wrong type of person.  I am one who sees every shade gray and that sometimes-caused friction, but I always knew I was loved. 

Here's to letting those around us know we care.  Let those special people in your life know they are loved.  It's a good day to be a bit more loving.  That's all the news from here in the Carondelet Garden.

Another beautiful day here in the Carondelet Garden.  The sun is shining brightly with blue skies overhead.  Low humidity and wonderful temperatures on this mid-week Wednesday morning.  A glorious day with highs in the mid to upper 80s.  Winds are out of the West at 5 to 10 MPH.  Beautiful weather but we are desperate for some heavenly moisture.  The smattering of rain yesterday was just that... a smattering.  A lovely soaking rain would be quite welcome about now.

"Rain down on me." The words of the hymn ring loudly today for so many reasons.  First, we need some rain here in Saint Louis.  It has been extremely dry for a long time.  Yet, this old gardener has been feeling a bit dry as well.  Spiritually dry.  There is so much going on in the world and I'm feeling small and a bit helpless.  Yet, it is precisely our smallness that allows us to trust in the power of creation that surrounds us.  It is only then that we can truly come to see the face of God in the face of others.  

When we turn over our power to something outside ourselves, which is the very essence of faith, we have faith in something greater than our smallness.  We face our helplessness as a sign of the Creator of all things at work in us and all around us.  This is often easier said than done for this old man.  Yet, we persevere.  Every day a new beginning.  A new opportunity to be a part of creation.  

A new day.  I think I'll plant something.  Be a part of creation.  That's all the news from here in the Carondelet Garden.  

A brilliant beginning of the day here in the Carondelet Garden.  Low humidity.  Lots of sunshine.  Blue skies and puffy white clouds (as Bob Ross would say).  We should see sunshine throughout the day with highs in the mid to upper 80s.  The winds are light and variable.  An absolutely banging day here in south Saint Louis.

It's Labor Day weekend.  How did that happen?  The last Friday in August.  It is hard for this old gardener to wrap his head around it.  Back in the olden times school didn't begin until the day after Labor Day and that was always the beginning of Autumn for me.  It still makes me feel like Fall is in the air.  The Fall lettuce seedlings are beginning to sprout their little heads above the ground.  My first try in new seedling trays was a total bust.  I tried again and it is a total success.  Who knows?  I will not be using those seedling trays again that's for sure.

Our beautiful niece will be joining us for some Antique Adventures this weekend.  Always a fun time.  Let the markets, fairs and Fall Festivals begin!  That's all the news from here in the Carondelet Garden.

It's a sunshine-filled morning here in the Carondelet Garden.  The Garden Doodle and I had a lovely walk around the neighborhood this morning.  The skies were blue.  There was a slight breeze and brilliant sunshine shining down.  A grace-filled walkabout on this mid-week Wednesday.  We should see sunshine all day with highs near 80 this afternoon.  Winds are light and variable.  

Am I alone in wondering where August went?  I blinked and it's almost September.  Time is fleeting and it goes faster and faster the older I get. 

A busy day ahead for the old gardener.  Watering needs are still constant with the lack of rain lately.  I'm going to finish trimming my neighbor's bushes.  I started before the heat wave but never finished since the dumpster out in the alley was full.  The weather should be perfect today.

It's almost September.  Labor Day is just a few days away and that is always the beginning of Fall for this old gardener.  The season of Fall Markets and Maker's Fairs, Octoberfests and Antique Days.  Fall is my favorite time of year! 

It's a good day to knock off a few chores.  A good day to enjoy the sunshine and the amazing weather.  A good day.  That's all the news from here in the Carondelet Garden.

It is an absolutely gorgeous morning here in the Carondelet Garden.  The Garden Doodle and I did our morning walk with temps in the upper 50s!  Simply stunning weather for August in Saint Louis.  We should sunshine all day with highs in the mid 70s.  Winds are out of the NNW at 5 to 10 MPH.  A perfect day here in south Saint Louis.

The weather was so perfect this past weekend the Garden was absolutely begging for attention.  We gave it all we had.  Our Winter Squash is doing well.  The Peppers are coming in full force right now.  The weeding is going well again.  We still have to water since it has been very dry around here.  The final mulching of the season is going to begin this week as well.

One of the biggest problems we have had is in our small grassy yard area.  It is a very small rectangle that we have left for our little Doodle to do her do.  We have planted mini white clover instead of grass.  We had Tall Fescue and it was great except for Doodle urine.  The clover is totally okay with that and looks very good.  Our issue is this invasive Japanese Stiltgrass.  It grows quickly and is incredibly invasive.  It will take over a yard so quickly and then move into the garden as well.  It is quite the thug plant.  I've found the best way to deal with it is by hand pulling.  We filled four trugs of it.  Do not put it into your compost pile as it will infest itself.  You have to dispose of it.  Getting it before it seeds is the only way to control it.  I've noticed it all over the neighborhood.  I can't use normal herbicides on my lawn as it will also kill the clover.  I am stuck with hand pulling in the yard.  

Anyone else dealing with Japanese Stiltgrass?  If you have ideas or suggestions, please share!  It's been a struggle this late Summer.  Invasive plants are quite the problem!

The good news is the beautiful weather allows us the opportunity to get outside and take care of business.  Here's to a wonderful week in the Garden.  I hope you get to get outside and enjoy this late summer respite.  That's all the news from here in the Carondelet Garden.

"Oh, what a beautiful morning!"  I couldn't have said it better that Oscar Hammerstein II.  It is a beautiful morning here in the Carondelet Garden in south Saint Louis.  Low humidity.  Temperatures in the upper 60s.  Sunshiny skies.  Life is good here in the Midwest on this Friday morning in August.  We should see sunny skies most of the day with highs in the low 80s.  Winds are out of the NE at 5 to 10 MPH.

It's a busy day here in the Carondelet Garden.  My chores list is getting longer by the minute.  Honestly, I can't wait to get started.  The break in the weather has energized this old gardener.  Short and sweet this morning.  That's all the news from here in the Carondelet Garden.

It is a beautiful morning here in the Carondelet Garden in south Saint Louis.  The skies are sunny and the humidity is noticeably lower.  Cooler temperatures are expected which is a welcome relief from the unending heat wave of the past few weeks.  We may see a few clouds move in but generally sunny skies this afternoon.  Highs will be in the upper 80s with winds out of the NE at 10 to 15 MPH.  It is a lovely change!

I have to admit I am over Summer.  I am over the heat.  I am over the humidity.  I am ready for Fall.  I am ready to make Leaf Mould.  I am ready for Fall Festivals and Markets.  I am ready for drives in the country and discovery new, out of the way diners.  I am ready for squash season and Dr. B's Butternut Squash soup.  I am done with Summer.  The slightly cooler temperatures this morning reminded me that Autumn is coming but I also know this is Saint Louis and we will have at least one if not two more heat waves before it is over.  

The older I get the less I am able to work in the intense heat.  I get some time in the early mornings and then I am done.  I am looking forward to the cooler temperatures of the next few days and weeks.  I am ready to get some weeding done.  I have Winter Squash to attend to.  I have trellis' to build.  The mulching will also begin again after the weeding is finished.  Bottom Line:  a long list of things I would like to get done while the cooler temperatures hang around.  

Yet, the Zinnias are beautiful right now.  The sun is shining. The temperatures are cooler.  The humidity has finally broken a bit.  Joy and Grace on this mid-week Wednesday morning here in the Garden.  As the old throw pillow says:  "It's a good day for a good day!"  Enjoy this break in the weather gardening friends.  That's all the news from here in the Carondelet Garden.

Another sunny, hot and humid day here in the Carondelet Garden.  It feels a bit like that movie "Groundhog Day" around here weather-wise.  The Heat Advisory continues for Saint Louis for yet another day but there is hope on the horizon with a cool front coming in mid-week which should provide us with some much-needed relief.  Today it will be sunny with highs near 100-degress F and winds out of the South at 5 to 10 MPH.  Hang in there gardening friends!

Dr. B put her propagation skills to use last Winter, and early Spring and we were able to create several hanging baskets from her labors.  This front porch beauty if an example of a no-cost stunner.  Well, to be honest, the eucalyptus was purchased as an add on, but the rest were all from last season.  We are definitely planning on doing this again.  Very, very happy with the results!

I am working on gratefulness lately. The world and all of the chaos surrounding our country, state and city can be overwhelming.  I'm trying to break through the noise and celebrate the good that still survives.  Goodness and beauty are around if we take a moment to actually stop and look for it.  Something as simple as a lovely garden basket on the front porch.  A bit of grace for this Monday morning in August.  Take a little time to witness a bit of beauty and grace this week if you can.  That's all the news from here in the Carondelet Garden.