|One of Summer's delightful flowers.|
I feel compelled to write to you after your absence these last several months, to tell you how much I miss you and how I long for your return.
I miss your music - the hum of the bees as they flew from flower to flower and the songs of the birds each morning, coaxing the sun to rise once again from the horizon. I so enjoyed, too, the sound of the water gurgling in the garden fountain and even the whirr of the lawn mower.
I miss your warm breezes, too, and the soft rain you brought with you, not just to break up the monotony of one sunny day after the next, but to water the plants in the garden.
Oh, the garden! Do you remember when you presented me with the first green bean, the first ripe tomato and the first ears of corn? I was so grateful. Did I tell you how grateful I was? Did I tell you how much I miss all that now?
I am not completely bereft in your absence, though, for so far Winter has not mis-treated me. Winter has given me a chance to rest, to not feel the pressures you sometimes put upon me to mow or water or just go outside to enjoy your sunshine and warmth.
Winter has also stuffed my mailbox full of seed catalogs.
But when I look through the seed catalogs, all I do is think of you, Summer. As I turn each page and see pictures of flowers and vegetables, I long for the days when we'll be together again.
And when we are together again, I'm going to be a better person, a better gardener, than I was when we were last together because, dearest Summer, Winter has given me a chance to think, to reflect, to plan, to vow to do better.
Winter has changed me! For the better, I think. You'll see, Summer, how wonderful it is going to be when we are together again.
For starters, I'm going to be more diligent about weeding in the garden for you. I was so lax with it when we were last together, you looked terrible at times. It was all my fault, too. But no more. I will weed. I promise.
I also promise not to leave plants in their tiny nursery containers for days, weeks, even months at a time. When I buy you new plants, Summer, I promise to plant them right into the ground as soon as I possibly can. You can count on it, Summer.
And I won't leave your produce out in the garden where it does no one any good. I will pick everything and share it with others, Summer, because it disrespects all you've done in the veg garden when I don't.
Finally, I promise that when you return I won't complain about your hot days, Summer. I know you can't help them. And I definitely will cherish any rain you bring. Please count on that, just as I count the days until your return.
In the meantime, while I wait and bide my time with Winter, I'll continue to look through the seed catalogs, which remind me so much of you, Summer, and make plans for your return.
With more fondness than you can imagine,