Yesterday was the first time since about the summer solstice that we did not have a dewpoint above 60. And frankly, most of July involved 70+ dewpoints with a daily 110 heat index. As a result, several plants are showing strange spotting.
The monarchs are finally here. The aster and goldenrod buds are nearly formed. Liatris aspera is about to burst open. I even noticed some turtleheads peeking out from their stalks.
Though enduring this summer's heat was awful, its having seemingly passed means that fall is nigh. Too nigh. Maybe tonight, given forecast low temps in the 50s. What do you do on these pre-fall days, when in the shade your hair stands up on end, but in the sun you sweat? I find this mix very sweet. In winter I enjoy driving with the sunroof open and the heat blowing hard on my legs. I like different textures in one bite of food. I like to bridge the gap, to feel the space between opposites--maybe this is why I'm always tempted to put my finger in an electrical socket.
I'm waxing here as another season appears to be suddenly waning. Fall always comes with a sense of apprehension, whether it's the rush to soak up as much warmth as possible--like the dragonflies on the west side of the fence at dusk--or my conditioning of an impending school year. This fall I'm not teaching, I'll be writing a 90,000 word memoir and applying for academic teaching jobs for 2012. There is a void, a space, an uncertainty, an unknowing that demands practicing faith in the most religious sense possible. Fall is very ascetic. I have always thought of fall as my favorite season--the ghosts of summer lingering, fingering through the cool corners of daylight, hope and dread intertwined like mating monarch butterflies, something, something is close by and everything is more alert in that steady waiting.
I hear you clearly. Quite a moving piece.
I finished your book yesterday! I really loved it! I love the way you write. Jackie has said we have a similar sense of humor and I could see it in your writing. I love your appreciation of the environment and how you managed to draw me in despite the fact I am NOT a gardener and have a pretty brown thumb.... I loved how you included Mr Mows all the time and your thoughts there. I think my favorite line in the book was in the chapter about the grasshopper massacre. You said you even caught two while mating. Their mating. That made me laugh out loud. Anyway, it is great!! :)
James--Thank you. I'm getting a bit more reflective and lyrical again in my life as I lose in on starting another book this fall.
Mandy--Huzzah! I'm very glad you liked it and, even though you're not a gardener, connected with it! Now go sell me some copies. :) It's only $5. I would love it if you posted a quick review on the Amazon page if you have time while juggling your kids... http://www.amazon.com/Sleep-Creep-Leap-Nebraska-Garden/dp/1463666594/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1312211337&sr=1-3
This is the time of year where I have too many other things to do, and even when I do have some time, I don't always have the energy to be out enjoying gardening in the much improved weather. I do go out a number of times a day to see the flowers, butterflies, bees, wasps and such, though.
The wild senna from you is about 6 inches tall and wide now. The one I bought from the arboretum that was larger than that to begin with has grown some, but yours is catching up with it. I think the one from there is turning its fall colors already.
I hope things are going well for you. Are you going to do some of your writing out in your lovely garden?
Sue--My senna is 7' tall and flopped over after last week's windstorm. It's HUGE! Watch out. If you want more seedlings, let me know, as I see some after the rain. I can't write outside worth anything--too many distractions....
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