We have been deluged with rain today, buckets of the stuff......unrelenting and soaking everything in sight. The wind is howling and creating havoc.
The county fair has opened it's gates, with an expected 500,000 visitors.
I've been busy sewing lavender sachets, in the shape of little hanging hearts.
I can't help but be transported back to the heady fragrance of my grandma's dressing- table drawers, where her Irish linen handkerchiefs were stored, between each stack, laid sachets of English lavender.
One of those days, where the temperature has cooled, and the humidity has returned to the point of tolerable.
A breezy porch-sitting day.
You can feel that Fall is in the air, just around the corner, and I'm excited, because it is my favoriteseason. I entered this world on a cool autumn evening, day's such as this are like a coming home of sorts, a kinship to my genetic roots.
The nest on the front porch wreath was originally built by Mrs. Robin two years ago.
She raised four babies inside and promptly left, with nary a wave goodbye.
Along came Jenny Wren, she moved into the nest, and added a few touches of her own. She has occupied her little place amongst the flowers for going on two summers, and we as dutiful hosts,
are careful not to burn the porch light, after she's settled in for the evening.
Lately the nest has been abandoned, for a more exotic location amongst the porch ferns.
I'm not certain if it offers a cooler habitat, or as with most of us ladies, she's just tired of the same decor.
Hopefully when the weather cools, she'll choose her nest once again.
"He who is born with a silver spoon in his mouth is generally considered a fortunate person, but his good fortune is small compared to that of the happy mortal who enters this world with a passion for flowers in his soul."
" The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning. The weeks that come before are only a climb from balmy spring, and those that follow a drop to the chill of autumn, but the first week of August is motionless, and hot. It is curiously silent, too, with blank white dawns and glaring noons, and sunsets smeared with too much color. Often at night there is lightning, but it quivers all alone. "
Resembling something of an underwater sea-creature, the Passion Flower resides far from the ocean, in land-locked Tennessee. It was first named as the official state flower in 1919 and then in 1939 the iris was also named the state flower. In 1973 legislation was passed designating the passion flower as the state wildflower and the iris as the state cultivated flower.
Also known as the maypop, wild apricot and the ocoee, passion flowers grow wild in the southern United States and South America. Ocoee is the Indian name for the passion flower (also used in the name of the Ocoee River and valley in Tennessee and the city of Ocoee in Florida). American Indians considered ocoee the most beautiful of flowers. I can't help but agree.
There are more than 60 different species of opossum, which are often called possums. The most notable is the Virginia opossum or common opossum—the only marsupial (pouched mammal) found in the United States and Canada, and have been around since the dinosaur age, some 70 million years ago.