Wednesday, September 22, 2010

The Last Day of Summer

Only a few more hours to go before Autumn officially arrives to set up house.

She has sent a few preliminary reminders of her intentions
to visit, but overnight we will watch the season change from
a glorious summery day to the first day of an equally glorious fall.

Singing day for Charles, and my plans for the morning
involved a lot of rather distasteful chores, like vacuuming and making order out of chaos 
in the linen closet.  No picture, - you really wouldn't want to see it!

But what is one to do on the last day of summer when it dawns clear and bright
with nary a cloud in the sky, and an early morning survey
finds the sunflowers heavy with little birds feeding,

the apples hanging ripe on the trees in the orchard,

the sky so deep and rich a blue

and a dozen or so things crying out for attention in the garden.

A perfect day for transplanting the barn flowers and the yellow daisies
into the bed where the poppy bloomed in July
before the coutch grass invasion.

I spent an hour digging out the grass, searching for every small prolific inch of it that just itches to
 re-establish itself and spring up to greet me in March, and then replaced the grass with the plants, which should have lots of time to put down roots before the serious frost arrives.

Although Charles and Sid both tell me that it is going to be a long cold winter, judging by the width of the stripe on the woolly caterpillars - this way of judging the coming season passed
on to them both from Charles' father, 
and though unique probably quite a dependable sign.

When the planting was done I went and got the camera and a cup of coffee, wandering around in the garden, tidying the iris and pulling out the little mint plants that foiled me in the spring.

The asters and sedum glow in the sunshine, and the white of a shasta that I had cut down earlier when it got unruly provides a lovely contrast.

I spent the last half hour of a wonderfully contented morning  gathering some windfalls
from the Mac tree just across the fence.  So many people love
this old variety, - it is sweet and crisp at this time of year,
a joy to bite into and marvelous for apple sauce.

As I finish this post there is just six minutes to go before summer turns to
wave her last farewell, - I imagine her going west, with the moon just coming up behind her
over the Cawston hills.

The forecast is for rain tomorrow, but today was a warm and well loved treasure.


Ann said...

Like a child, we delay the inevitable bed time, how we wish, summer will be longer.

For us, spring is intermingled with winter.

Wanda..... said...

Not only do I know there will be lovely photos here, to view... I always leave feeling I just read an excerpt from a lovely book.

Barb said...

Hildred, You had a gem of a day - thank goodness the garden beckoned. I love seeing all your blooms - and even had to smile a bit at the thought of you pulling the invasive grass. We'll see who is the victorious one come March! My own gardens have succumbed to frost except for the hardy sedum that still glow red.

Sallie (FullTime-Life) said...

Thank you Hildred for sharing your amazing last dday of summer! It was a beautiful day. I am glad to be reading it just before bedtime -- there's such a peaceful glow to your posts.