Ah Sunflower, weary of time,
Who countest the steps of the sun;
Seeking after that sweet golden clime
Where the traveller's journey is done;

Where the Youth pined away with desire,
And the pale virgin shrouded in snow,
Arise from their graves, and aspire
Where my Sunflower wishes to go!

William Blake

We are back to the heavy golden days of August.

The moon tonight is a great orange lantern swinging across the sky, coloured by the smoke of the forest fires that are causing so much distress in the southern part of the province.

The wind, which was cool and refreshing in the early morning, still blows hot off the rocky hills that have been gathering the heat of the sun to their bosom all this long, humid day.

The pair of goldfinch that haunt the sunflowers find a bountiful menu of dark and fulsome seeds. Yellow is the predominant colour in the garden, as a prelude to the rich autumn colours of the chrysanthemum and the sedums.

It is not the month for strenuous activities, and easy to slide into a lovely state of indolence! Afternoons are meant for nodding off, - meals are meant to be light and easily prepared. Enough to dream of the crispness of September and what wonderful things we will accomplish.

In the meantime the Sunflowers 'count the steps of the sun' - feed the little birds, and stretch magnificently into the blueness of the August sky.