Sunday, September 21, 2014

The first day of Autumn, and still Summer lingers with us.  
A warm day and I spent the afternoon in the back garden, reading, 
and then finally stirring myself to gather up the 
great leaves of the squash and cucumber and pumpkin that I planted,
 and alas, had only a very meager harvest.  However, before the lovely leaves
 began to shred and dry they made a wonderful show at the edge of the deck.

And the nicotiana perfumed the night so intensely that the scent wafted 
through the open window, along the hall, and into my bedroom

However, I am now with Rilke, and his words about Autumn. 
I think that I have posted his poem before, 
but perhaps not this particular translation by Galway Kinnell and Hannah Liebmann.

Lord it is time.  The summer was immense.
Lay your shadow on the sundials
and let loose the wind in the fields.

Bid the last fruits to be full;
give them another two more southerly days,
press them to ripeness, and chase
the last sweetness into the heavy wine.

Whoever has no house now will not build one anymore.
Whoever is alone now will remain so for a long time,
will stay up, read, write long letters,
and wander the avenues, up and down,
restlessly, while the leaves are blowing.

The grape harvest is not yet underway here in the valley,
but the orchards are busy with apple pickers and the alders and the poplars,
 high in the hills, mark the creeks they edge with gold.

I have determined to spend this coming week in the garden.
Those beautiful but ubiquitous yellow daisies have more or less taken over
even providing fierce competition for the Chinese Underground Railway
and the bright orange lanterns they festoon their
stations with.

I hope to move the daisies to another spot (not yet determined)
to make room for the lilies which suffered under the great growth and 
shade of the hazel nut tree this summer.  I think that this side garden
is going to end up being a haven for hostas
with the poppies and the delphinium also moving elsewhere.

Well, all these plans for the garden add a great
deal of enthusiasm to life
and I am not yet ready for the pile of books,
the easy chair, and my knitting!!

By the way, I didn't get to the Pepper Festival, but spent the morning yesterday
helping to provide coffee to fifty or so
Anglicans who were on a rally, visiting South Okanagan Parishes,
and the afternoon playing the organ at a funeral
for an old and dear friend I used to play hand bells with, but I heard
the music that sounded throughout the town
and it was hot and peppy!


Penny said...

I love hearing of your day.

The Weaver of Grass said...

I love that Rilke Hildred - and wish I could also smell those Nicotianas.

Reader Wil said...

How wonderful your garden must be! Do you still do the gardening yourself?
Thank you for your comment. I didn 't know that there were also separists in Canada, but I am glad they too solved the problems in a mature and wise way and that there is mutual respect. I agree with you.

Sallie (FullTime-Life) said...

It was a good day! As always when you mention your Nicotinia plant I must work hard not to be envious. So glad it came with you to your new yard.

We have had warm summery days ever since we left Alaska -- in BC, Washington, and as of yesterday here in Oregon. That is fine with me!

Hildred said...

I do still garden, Wil. It is just a small handkerchief size garden compared to what we had before, but just enough to handle with help from sturdier family members when it comes to digging and pruning, - and I am so grateful for it!

I am saving all my nicotiana seeds except for the ones I am scattering around, in the hopes they will spring up all over the place!

Anne at Shintangle Studio said...

Oh, what a fine thing, to have some gorgeous poetry to read this afternoon: thank you. Even with my background in English lit, I go months without reading poetry: a sad admission. Seeing CA at school today made me determined to sign in with Google so I can comment on your blog. Hope this works.