Bedraggled

There is no better word to describe my garden at this time of year than bedraggled. The flowers that remain have a rather battered air; insect chewed and weather weary. This morning was a perfect setting for Keat's "Ode to Autumn" with plenty of mist and mellow fruitfulness.

I ventured into the damp, misty morning and picked some forlorn looking flowers

and they seemed to perk up a bit once they were inside.