It is once again the time of year when summer and fall collide; when young ladies slosh forth in knee high boots and tank tops in 80 degree heat.
This is also the time of year when one must consider the Annual Demise of the Garden: the molding of the zinnias, the wincing of the cherry tree leaves, the withering of the potato vine. That sort of thing.
And are we then to wait for next spring for some measure of garden jollity?
Nyet, I say, exercising the extent of my Russian.
It is time to purpose and repurpose items that can cheer the border between now and then. The happy rooster above vibrates against the yellow house.
Don't tell the owner, who probably paid a fortune for it, but I recently saw a similar piece in the, um, statuary section of Slendy's of Culpeper, my favorite junque shoppe. (Years of junking and no Renoir. Where's the fairness in this I ask you.)
