The art of gardening in the rain

It was just starting to rain when I took Maddie out yesterday, but the skies opened up by the time we were half-way through.

We were both soaked when we got home. I told her to shake before we went in, and she did, but still, there were wet paw prints all over the kitchen floor. As for me, my sneakers squished, and water dripped off my Red Sox hat, which, by the way, is in bad shape just like the team itself. I had an umbrella, but still, my glasses could have used a set of windshield wipers.

I needed a change of clothes. But then I looked out at the garden and thought: Time for a rescue mission. It was probably the last chance for the flowers, perennials and annuals, which were being beaten down by the rain. So I squished on outside, clipper in hand, and started picking the survivors. Some were visible, while others were hidden behind drooping leaves.

Red, yellow, orange, pink, purple...there was a touch of everything.

I could hear my mother saying, "Don't be afraid to pick them."

I actually ended up with a bigger bunch than I had all season. Dripping wet (I mean me, but that applies to the flowers, too) I spread them out on a piece of newspaper.

Whenever I'm arranging flowers, I wonder, WWMD (What Would Mom Do), so as I put them in a vase,  I tried to channel her flair.

I had to try it a few times, but I think it looks pretty good for an end-of-the-season bouquet using a little of this and a little of that, kind of like when it's the end of the week and you make dinner by throwing together whatever you find in the fridge.

The sun was back out today, and there were some flowers left in the garden, but the ones I picked yesterday definitely brightened my table on a rainy day.