My garden deserves a big thank-you; it's needy, requires weeding, watering, and deadheading. In return, I receive innumerable rewards, some of which are small, even difficult to define. This year's most generous gift might be the simple escape from reality, a place to lose your mind. Even when the weeding battle appears impossible, like fighting mulberry weed (Fatoua villosa), it becomes a physical and emotional absorption and then a feeling of small gains and taking care of business. Those who run those who take on moderate distances achieve a runner's high when endorphins are released. The gardener has several "gardener's highs," maybe minor compared to an endorphin rush, but entirely satisfying.

By September, we are on the downside of active seasons in the garden with fall fast approaching. The rewards may be fewer, but they keep coming. My small shady walkway recently erupted with cyclamen's flowers (Cyclamen hederifolium), where they have naturalized and grown happy. Like a sweep of newness, they are delightful. Ants spread the seed to sunlit areas, their preferred space to grow, free of threatening weeds. The season for cyclamen has just begun, and evergreen leaves will follow to occupy winter. The arrival of cyclamen marks a new chapter, a nod to the continuance, despite plants' tiredness around them. The gardener may break out in a joyful dance to the tune of "Happy" (by Pharrell Williams), thankful for the ants and a job well done in their role as seed distributors. So desirable are the seeds to ants, each one coated in a gel-like substance explicitly designed to entice the pickup and mobility, that it's nearly impossible to harvest any for yourself. I add this only to inform the gardener as they are easy to grow from seed and can be a special gift to a gardening friend that might like a late-summer boost.

In the same garden and not far, the bright yellow sternbergia flowers (sometimes known as a fall crocus) are also just arriving; their foliage went dormant as the pandemic began, they've been asleep ever since. Nothing has changed in their world; the response to shortening days and cooler temperatures mean grow, it's time. Underground bulbs are the wellspring for food captured when winter leaves were active, the summer slumber seems odd, but here we are, grateful for another spot of color as days grow shorter. I paired the yellow flowers with the incredible blue of 'True Blue' gentian for three years, but sadly the gentian did not survive the drought. I might try again.

Once again, there comes the preoccupation, planning, and scheming for the next season or year. It's an excellent place to be.