When the Frost is on the Roses

We had a couple of cold nights with frost these last few days.  But since we've had such a warm fall, my roses have continued to bloom away.  After the first night's frost, the morning sun just turned that frost into dewdrops, as you can see from the photo.  

The fodder's not in the shock, yet, either, to quote the poem.  The cool nights are here but the leaves are still hanging on and I've still got a few bees hanging around the scraggly flowers I can't bring myself to dig up.  (Because then where will the bees go?)

City life doesn't work the way the country life does, with the weather figuring in, having to get crops taken care of and having that rhythm of sowing, growing, reaping, clearing; with tool repair and canning and freezing and cellaring; with feeding and watering the animals every day whether one feels like getting out or not.  I used to know a little about that kind of life, although I only lived on the edge of it.

But now, especially here where the seasons are a little off schedule and kind of come and go at the edges, when it doesn't matter all that much if one plants the pansies in October or January.... well, it all becomes kind of arbitrary.  I keep thinking I will get with the program and plant fall plants, only to think it's too hot and too dry and I might as well wait until.... I'm not sure what I'm waiting until, actually.  I suppose I am wishing for some structure here, a seasonal commitment from Mother Nature or something.

Thank goodness I have the liturgical calendar to help me keep time!