Sunday, August 28, 2016

The Dog Days Of Summer

Dog Days defines a time period or event that is very hot or stagnant, or marked by dull lack of progress.
The name comes from the ancient belief that Sirius, also called the Dog Star, was somehow responsible for the hot weather.
These late days of August, we seem to have hit that mark.

Hot summer days, the air thick with humidity.
Even the birds have taken to their nests...




Friday, August 26, 2016

Morning Mist


Morning Mist

In the morning, skies so gray,
Before the sun lights up the day,
I chanced upon a morning mist
That left the leaves and grasstips kissed
With the aqua of the dew,
It left a feeling with me, too
Something old and something new;
Something that comes with the mist again,
Never what, but always when.
Author Unknown

Saturday, August 20, 2016

And The Rains Came

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.
Never fails.........

Friday, August 19, 2016

Blooming Lovely

The Petunias have bloomed since Spring.
Just a gentle watering daily, and they are happy to share their prolific blooms all Summer long.
I wasn't able to plant many annuals this year, so having these lively little flowers grace us with color week after week, has made me smile.

Thursday, August 18, 2016

Summer's Gold


"Oh, the summer night
Has a smile of light
And she sits on a sapphire throne."

- Barry Cornwall


Monday, August 15, 2016

Lovely Lavender

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.
Gentler and simpler times.

Sunday, August 14, 2016

Autumn Longing


Ooh, it's been a glorious day......
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 favorite season.
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.
"Whilst August yet wears her golden crown,
Ripening fields lush- bright with promise;
Summer waxes long, then wanes, quietly passing
Her fading green glory on to riotous Autumn."

~  Michelle L. Thieme : August's Crown


Saturday, August 13, 2016

How I'll Miss You, When You're Gone

What seems like forever in the making, the Heavenly Blue Morning Glories are finally in bloom.
They'll share their flowers until the first frost.
A life so brief, yet so full of beauty.

Thursday, August 11, 2016

Moving On

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.

Wednesday, August 3, 2016

Home On The Range

August days are getting hotter,  and much porch-sitting is called for.
No excuses, we here in the South, know how to handle, heat and humidity.
Lots of cold iced tea, and plenty of chore-pondering.

The Petunias were thriving well in the heat, I admired them so.
Apparently, I was not alone, this cheeky little bandit helped herself to them all, in the middle of the night.

Home, home on the range,
Where the deer and the antelope play;
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word,
And the skies are not cloudy all day.

~ Dr. Brewster Higley~ 1873