Not Frosting on the Fake

It was the first frost of fall Shriveling everything to small We’re lucky it took so long to call Let’s pull out our hats, gloves and shawl. Now we can move on. That’s all.

This was the very last and tiny rose. From my garden after the others froze. The growing year has come to a close. Except for a few carrots, I suppose.

The past autumn months have spoiled us big. Are we ready for the bad weather pig? We’ll have to gear up and take our swig Get out our shovels and begin to dig.