This posting may not have too much to do with the Blue Moon, but I am excited that it is the thirty-first day of August and tomorrow we start on that most favoured month.
SEPTEMBER
Well, the sun's not so hot in the sky today,
and you know, I can see summertime slipping on away...
James Taylor
I see that there are dried leaves on the lawn, but they are from some mid-summer
branches whose leaves wilted when the tree at the front, which nobody is able to identify,
became a little droughted.
What I am looking for are leaves that have a little tinge of scarlet around the edges, or a mellow
aura of pale yellow creeping along the veins of the tired green sun-dried leaves,
promises of the glowing lights of funeral costumes that will soon
illuminate the orchards, the vineyards, the meadows,
the ditches, the fences, the mountain sides,
the trees, the gardens, -
the whole glorious valley, kindled with the fires of autumn.
Already the goldenrod and rabbit brush line the country roads like singing sirens,
calling to me to gather great armloads and take them home to dye the yarn
that was so abundant in by-gone years, when we husbanded sheep and lambs.
As I lay on the cusp of sleep last night I thought about the dyes and mordants
that I have squirreled away in a Navajo basket, and about where they
might be, - that alchemy that turns yarn into gold and precious jewel shades.
Up in the trailer that houses all of my weaving - looms, warps, reeds, shuttles, etc., I think.
September seems a perfect time to take on the project
of organizaion, distribution, and maybe even a little creation.
The Blue moon is extraordinarily beautiful tonight,
shining gently through clouds that drift lazily across
her lovely face.
shining gently through clouds that drift lazily across
her lovely face.
