Now and Then . . .

The creative juices have been very sluggish lately.  Perhaps it's the cold that is not only creeping into my bones but chilling the brain cells as well.  Bundling up against the cold to trudge outside to take pictures of stems protruding from snowdrifts has lost its luster.  My computer is feeling sluggish, too, and I've been slowly going through the photo files deleting duplicates and fuzzy pictures, hoping this will perk it up.  As I sift through photo after photo of summer blooms, I remember a post that Tatyana did last year about the contrasts between then and now, and the writer's block is lifted--at least temporarily.

Whoever tramped through the snow in front of my house--and I suspect it was a four-legged creature, not a two-legged one who would know better--would hardly guess from this barren scene now . . .

. . . what it looked like in June.  Then it was a sea of green dotted with the occasional pink or blue bloom.

The dried remains of a hydrangea seen now are a withered reminder of the days of summer . . .

. . . Then they were a vision of pink.

Right now visitors might be puzzled by this strange-looking structure.

But if they had seen it in May, then they would have understood its purpose in supporting 'Nelly Moser."

There is some "winter interest" in the lily bed now.

But I much prefer its summer and fall appearance; it looked entirely different then.

A gardener could probably still identify this plant as an amsonia now.

But it was much easier to identify it by its foliage all summer long into November.  Actually, as much as I liked it then, I'm really looking forward to this spring when I hope this first-year plant will be covered with a mass of tiny blue blossoms.

And as photogenic as the coneflowers are now covered in snow . . .

 .. . I'd much rather see them as they looked then, in mid-summer.

The same holds true for the Susans, who look kind of cool now . . .

. . . but looked oh so charming then.

The Knockout roses are still standing now . . .

. . . as they were all summer.  But then their red blooms were what caught the eye.

I don't pay much attention to the stems of the Russian Sage now.

But in the summer I checked it often; then it was a constand buzz of activity.

In the same way, it may be hard to see the appeal of fennel now. (Or is this dill?  Hard to tell in the winter.)

In the summer, though, it held a lot of interest for the grandkids as well as for me.  Then we would inspect it carefully and count how many swallowtail caterpillars we could find.

No life in the goldenrod now.

In the fall--then it was full of insects galore.

Roco's garden now . . .

. . . and then.

Some containers were left outside this fall, and now they're frozen solid.

In summer it was a different story; then they were an eye-catcher, not an eyesore.

I really don't have the winter blues.  I'm using the free time right now to get some much-needed housework done, including cleaning out closets and shelves. It's nice, too, to be able to read a book snuggled under a comforter or to watch the Illini games without feeling guilty about neglecting garden chores. 

But, oh, am I ready for spring--when "then" becomes "now" once again.

"Oh Wind, if Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?"

--Percy Shelley