Summer is Here…especially in the garden….

Every year, I celebrate the returning blossoms and quiet magic of my perennial garden, where roots deepen through the seasons and beauty faithfully returns each spring and brightens and grows throughout the summer and early autumn until it sleeps under the snow throughout the winter. I found a couple of beautiful poems to celebrate these beautiful perennial gardens.

With the strength of the tallest tree, she stands.
Rich with secrets and surprises is the perennial garden. Through long winters cold, swathed in blankets thick and white, she slumbers deep, waiting.
Through dark death felt nights she sleeps. Not seeing but knowing all. As she rests she experiences everything — everything there is. There she waits.
Awakening with the warmth of Spring — never speaking of winter’s pain, she rises. Arms pushing through the soil, giving birth as the day begins. She rises.
Her many colors, sizes, and shapes blend in time. Deep green leaves like swords frame billows of delicate dotted puffs. Never asking what or why, she blends as there is need.
Brilliant foliage fills her beds — greens, purples, and yellows, some tinged with red. She blooms year after year, mingling with life and wind and rain to bring all that is new.
A philanthropist, year after year she gives and gives an ever-abundant array of delights. She brightens our day, tickles our spirit, dances in our heart, and nourishes our soul.
Roots grow wider and deeper as they endure, making her more secure. She may bend in a storm, but she will be strong and hold tight.
Strong as the tallest tree, as friends gather around — she stands.
Leaves touch and roots intertwine as generations reach through the ages, dropping their seeds and nurturing shoots.
Friendships are perennial gardens. They need from us tending in simple ways. When life is busy, we may forget them for a moment, but they are always there.

Written by
Katie Michaelson

Beneath the thawing, winter-weary earth,
A quiet patience readies for rebirth.
No need to sow or start the cycle new,
The deep-set roots already know what to do.

From slumber deep, the creeping phlox awake,
And peonies their leafy silence break.
The steadfast hostas spread their emerald hands,
As wild coneflowers rise in sunlit bands.

Though biting frosts may bend the stems and chill,
The sleeping pulse remains resilient still.
A promise kept through every passing year,
When warmer winds and gentle rains appear. [1]

Year after year, the colors intertwine,
A living, breathing, seasonal design.
In every petal, leaf, and reaching shoot,
Eternity is hidden in the roo