Seasons Of Mists

Summer Days have not yet took their leave.

The most perfect of Autumnal days today, blue skies and sunshine galore.
Our rainfall has been little to none for an entire month, many of the trees have already lost their brown leaves prematurely.
The air conditioner continues to hum....

 

"Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,

Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;

Conspiring with him how to load and bless

With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;

To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,

And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;

To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells

With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,

And still more, later flowers for the bees,

Until they think warm days will never cease,

For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells."

~ John Keats

Hello Autumn

These first few days of Autumn, a little decorating, a little gardening, a little relaxing 

Life is noticeably slowing

Nights are drawing in fast, dark before the clock strikes seven now.

Our days are still seasonally warm in these southern United States, giving the opportunity to finish those end of summer chores, before Old Man Winter sets in.

Leaves are beginning to gather, hummingbirds are making their way deeper South, the 7pm sunsets are fleeting,l

The smell of wood-smoke fills the night air.

"Autumn ....the year's last loveliest smile"

 

“~ John Howard Bryant

 

 “Autumn...the year's last, loveliest

 

Returning

The Morning Glories have made an appearance.

This Grandpa Ott variety, returns year after year, without any help from the gardener.
The vines wrap their tendrils around the weathered-wood fence, and grace us with beauty, all summer long.

The flowers are a sumptuous Royal Blue trumpet with a contrasting purple star.
A strikingly beautiful combination.
Not quite the Autumn palette, yet nevertheless, we'll enjoy their presence until the first freeze of the season, and then it's " show-over ".

 

  

THE MORNING GLORY

Was it worth while to paint so fair

Thy every leaf - to vein with faultless art

Each petal, taking the boon light and air

Of summer so to heart?

To bring thy beauty unto perfect flower,

Then, like a passing fragrance or a smile,

Vanish away, beyond recovery's power -

Was it, frail bloom, worth while?

Thy silence answers: "Life was mine!
And I, who pass without regret or grief,
Have cared the more to make my moment fine,
Because it was so brief.

"In its first radiance I have seen
The sun! - why tarry then till comes the night?
I go my way, content that I have been
Part of the morning light!"

~ Florence Earl Coates ( 1850-1927 )

Mother Nature's Bounty

Meadow wildflowers make me smile.

 

 

  "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."

 

- Celia

 

 

September

" September days have the warmth of summer in their briefer hours,
But in their lengthening evenings a prophetic breath of autumn.                            

The cricket chirps in the noontide, making the most of what remains of his brief life.
The bumblebee is busy among the clover blossoms of the aftermath,
And their shrill and dreamy hum hold the outdoor world above the voices of the song birds,
Now silent or departed."-

~ September Days : Rowland E. Robinson, Vermont

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.

Either way, we seem to have hit that mark.

Late Summer Days

August days are waning.

Schoolchildren return to classes, and the days are now eerily quiet.

County fairs are in full swing, fun, food and frolic.

Summer days seem noticeably shorter.
Brilliant sunsets, light up the night sky.

And the ebb and flow of seasons continue.

August

 " 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. "

~Natalie Babbitt, Tuck Everlasting

Summer Respite

Thankfully we've been graced with rainfall this past week, the flowers and humans are grateful.
The deer have been drinking nightly from the birdbaths, a little respite from their daily trek to the nearby pond.

I'm looking forward to cooler days, as with so many others.