September 25th, 2010

Reminiscing the importance of this date in days gone by, - Charles' parents wedding anniversary......

Special fond remembrances of Granny's beautiful peony beds and the heritage sweet peas we still grow in our own garden and distribute seeds to others in the family.  I am considering a little box of these precious seeds in everyone's Christmas parcel.

When I came home from town today Charles was busy harvesting the sweet pea seeds, putting them 

in a barrel to give them plenty of room to pop open all by themselves.

Last night David sent spectacular pictures of the meadow, well advanced into fall

with the trees all the beautiful shades of Autumn. 

Not so here, - I noticed this morning a dozen scarlet leaves had blown to the ground from

the scarlet maple and down at the bottom of the pasture the leaves on

the sumac are beginning to change into fall attire, but

the garden is not so flagrant.  The changes are subtle, - the sunflowers are mostly

round seeded heads  and the sedum glows in the sunshine, but is a softer, mellower shade

when the autumn clouds gather.

The star of the garden right now are the two grocery store miniature roses that 

are putting on a fabulous show, - covered with beautiful buds and blooms

that just go on and on and on.....seen directly below

The remains of summer and the beginnings of Autumn.

The Chrysanthemum are not yet in bloom so, barring a heavy frost, we should have

brightness and beauty in the garden until the end of October

Many things grow in the garden that were never sown there - for instance,

here are the fruits of the Chinese Lantern that arrive by underground railway, 

and are now hanging to dry on the deck, in all their glowing beauty.

It is good to be alone in a garden at dawn or dusk so that all its shy presences may haunt you and possess you in a reverie of suspended thought.  James Douglas

The September Garden on the ninth day of the month.

Looking slightly dishevelled and neglected

with the Sunflower Cafe open to its small bird customers

and with small bits of summer flowers blooming amongst the autumn asters and sedum

A straight soldierly sunflower volunteer stands guard beside the deep red climber.

and around the corner on the west side of the house the newly planted

Blaze has reached six feet or so, and celebrates with a scarlet farewell to summer

on each side the whorls of the spent clematis shine in the sunlight

in odd places the successful immigrants who arrived on the Chinese Lantern Express

smirk at me, even one tall plant whose hiding place had been discovered

six feet up the sweet pea fence as the plants fade and the seed pods form.

The remainders of the Roses bloom on valiantly

On Monday we shifted the large orange daylily from the middle of the

garden to various other spots, - along the west wall, a few flagging the patio and some

in the bed by the trailer.  I wish them all well..... 

I cherish them all, but still, it is the ladies who crashed the party who bring

the most vibrancy and generosity to the garden

as the small birds gather to feast among their lovely golden hearts.

As I wander the garden a gnome whizzes by on the driveway, flashing a reluctant grin.

As August sidles into September

The gates of summer, once open wide like the arms of absent friends

begin to close, haltingly, with rusty hinges creaking in cool mornings.

The fireflies that rose in steaming clouds from humid backyard lawns

have disappeared overnight as though deported to another country,

leaving thrumming cicadas overhead, pulsing like high voltage wires.

Now great baskets of tomatoes, sunset crimson and dusky orange,

delicate raspberries, their jeweled caps painting picking fingers purple,

with seed like tiny pearls, sweet and tart with days of rain and sun,

await the sauce pots and canning jars to hold their garnet ripening.......

Holin Kennen
Summer's End  an excerpt


I was so very touched by the above words, and they awakened such wonderful memories and images in my mind - tried to contact the poet for permission to reprint, but my efforts were in vain.
I have included as much information as I can about her bio, and provide the above link which will take you there.

Summer is saying her prolonged farewells and the garden has shaded her eyes, watching for fall to touch the tops of the hills and slide on down into the valley, trailing gold and scarlet in its wake.

Since the last diary entry the glory of the gorgeous white phlox has faded, but for most of August it was a wonderful flower to place on the altar each Sunday and pass along to gardenless people when the service was over.

The bee balm are weary with the summer's dance, - their bright red tutus are tattered and torn and they droop their heavy heads.  As a consolation the fragrant sweet peas have climbed the obelisk at whose base they were planted and proclaim to the world and its olfactory senses how beautiful they are and how perfectly yummy they smell!

The second flush of roses is fading somewhat, but they have been quite beautiful in the last two weeks, - especially the Abraham Darby and the little 'grocery store' roses.

The climbers have all given late summer the nod, and are blooming profusely.

The delphiniums and one solitary oriental poppy have recovered from their June orgy and are making another appearance on stage.

Down the road Charles tends his row of curly willows and they have responded with enthusiastic growth and the promise of a wonderful green hedge to line the driveway.

On the other side of the lane Caspar and I peer into the leafy dimness of the orchard, lit by ripening apples hanging like small gold and crimson lanterns.

The morning glory vine spreads along the side of the garage and holds court before noon and its afternoon nap.

But when all is said and done it is the time when the sunflower is seen in the land, nodding its golden head in varied corners and fields, along roadways and in the middle of gardens, - wherever its abundant and fertile seed has fallen it seizes the opportunity to bring sunshine to late summer days.

I walk out on to the deck and startle a dozen or so gold and rosy breasted finches, interrupting their breakfast at the Sunflower Bar and Grill.  They rise into the air and fly off to take cover in the curly willow.

Last week a full moon shone down on the garden

and in the daytime smoke drifted down from the wildfire west of town

Here is the sedum, preparing for September days, - the bees eagerly anticipating full bloom and full tummies.

Every summer

I listen and look

under the sun's brass and even

into the moonlight, but I can't hear

anything.  I can't see anyting -

not the pale roots digging down, nor the green

stalks muscling up, 

nor the leaves

deepening their damp pleats,

nor the tassels making

nor the shucks, nor the cobs.

And still,

every day,

the leafy fields

grow taller and thicker -

green gowns lofting up in the night,

showered with silk.

And so, every summer,

I fail as a witness, seeing nothing -

I am deaf too

to the tick of the leaves,

The tapping downwardness from the banyan feet -

all of it

happening

beyond any seeable proof, or hearable hum.

And therefore, let the immeasurable come,

Let the unknowable touch the buckle of my spine.

Let the wind turn in the trees,

and the mystery hiding in the dirt

swing through the air.

How could I look at anything in this world

and tremble, and grip my hands over my heart?

What should I fear?

One morning

in the leafy green ocean

the honeycomb of the corn's beautiful body

is sure to be there.

Mary Oliver

Little Summer Poem Touching The Subject of Faith