My garden is beginning a beautiful death. Flowers drop their seeds to the earth as they turn in upon themselves. As if to say, do not forget me. Go forth! A piano pedal tone plays softly somewhere. My soul can hear it. There is sadness and joy there in that place. Together. Life. The last notes of color dance with the shriveled, crisp, blackened fora as they enter into this transformation. I find comfort in the natural beauty. Which is death. Which is life.