"For summer, bear in mind, is a loitering gossip, that only begins to talk of leaving when September rises to go."
- George Washington Cable
The first day of September, and the Golden Rod mingles along the road with the scarlet of the rose-hips.
And by the seventh day the Scarlet Maples are paying attention to the inner clock that tells them it's Show Time!
On the eighth day the sun catches the Cawston Hills where the grass turns Naples yellow and echoes the light of the day.
By the tenth day the Sunflower that lights up the loom room door has sixty-three blooms on it and the small birds are in a frenzy of delight.
On the twelth day morning breaks, and the heavens are on fire.
O look, on the thirteenth day 1003 bees and other assorted insects set up housekeeping in the row of tall sunflowers.
And on the eighteenth day the Chinese Lanterns (Physallis) signal with a bright orange glow that it is time to hang them to dry for winter's pleasure.
And so it goes all through the month. The roses cling to one last flush....
The Asters bloom magnificently and the 1003 bees call in reinforcements!
Down at the bottom of the pasture the sumac grows ever more colourful with each passing day. I yearn to travel the backroads, but there is still time. October is even more spectacular as all the fruit trees don gorgeous evening finery before the big winter sleep.
I spent the morning in the garden, dividing Day Lilies and Peonies, making room for little paths and a more civilized ambience.
The dry scent of a dying garden in September,
The wind fanning the ash of a low fire.
What I love is near at hand,
Always, in earth and air."
- Theodore Roethke, The Far Field