ILLUSTRATION BY KERRY CESEN

The afternoon sun took a quick exit today. It’s September, after all. There is barely a glimmer of sunlight out, but it might be enough for me to water a few plants before this moment is uprooted, like so much of my time.

Maybe if I hurry, I can water the most needy plants.

Really, there is no sunlight. The moon is out, the stars are out … I better go back in. I’ll just say, “Fare thee well, beauties of the garden. Your time is at hand anyway. I was hoping to get a few more afternoons with you, maybe even a picture with my sweetheart.”

My dear sweetheart. A grand gardener, he wouldn’t let the lack of sun rob him of this moment. Indeed, he did sometimes water by moonlight. So I grabbed the hose and began watering. For the first time, I saw different colors of the plants—hues I never see in daylight. Why hadn’t I watered in the moonlight before? Everything was peaceful, and the lightening bugs were out.

As I watered a pink zinnia, I realized that if my sweetheart had put sprinklers in like I asked him to, I wouldn’t be worried about watering. I asked him about that once, and he told me he enjoyed watering some of the plants himself. I never understood why. Until now, as I watered in the moonlight.

—By Marcie Karon Topping of Phenix City, AL.