Not feeling talky, am feeling pictorial. So let us see the garden in early fall transformation, or, where did 2011 go, exactly? Luckily, the asters and late goldenrod are still bringing life to the garden, and will for 2-3 more weeks. No frost yet, though it was 33 two nights ago. Appendages crossed.
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| Tree frog 6" from aster bloom |
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| Fly on Eupatorium 'Prairie Jewel' |
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| View outside bedroom door |
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| Monarch charging up in AM |
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| This male hung around all night before leaving--the last one |
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| Maple leaf--click to expand |
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| Black chokeberry leaves |
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| Playing around with roof geometry |
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| Looking southwest from the fountain--quite full, huh? |
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| Hadn't seen this aster in 4 years! |
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| I like the aster branch against the jagged grass |
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| Side oats grama |
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| Sculpture 1, with indian grass |
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| Sculpture 2, with indian and switch grass |
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| An 8' eupatorium against chokeberry |
There is much change in the air, and it is more inside the house than out. No, we aren't pregnant, but my mind is swimming with the future--something I try not to do in my life too much. For the first time I will collect some seed this fall and store it away, perhaps using it in a new place next summer. Or perhaps not. What I know about uncertainty is that, in the past, it has made me sick and lost, spun around like a record. But now I'm older and seasoned, and uncertainty feels more like hope, more like faith, more like precision (negative space?).
Even if the world falls apart, if the leaves really do drop at any moment, there is a constancy in the loss, an accretion of wisdom and patience in the speed of the season, death, and birth. I'm not sure what I'm saying, other that in a time in my life when I could, and maybe should be afraid, I feel the most confident and certain. Time accelerates, and yet I feel steady and patient, leaning a little more into the wind, making ready. I know this is vague. But the story is in the pictures above--and it's not mine alone. Just look at the frog.
9 comments:
Thank goodness you aren't pregnant.
Pregnant men are kind of creepy. And I'm so tired of seeing my friends' baby pictures.
I know you're trying to be serious, and I promise I am too. In fact, most of the time I'm too serious, and you'd never know it from how I am in Blogworld. My sense of humour has always been a self-defense mechanism against all the negative juju in my life.
I love fall for the reasons you mentioned. I like the death of the previous year and look forward to the rebirth of the next. It's what keeps me going when things are shitty. This year hasn't been terrible, I've had worse. But it hasn't been fantastic either. So many things to want to change...
I got really girly over the picture of the cute little frog. Thanks for that, it doesn't happen very often :)
I was surprised by the frog. I thought Tree frogs were citizens of more tropical climes.
My favorite gardening quote along these lines is the one about Vita-Sackville West, that she planted bulbs in fall even when she knew she wouldn't live to see the spring.
Kyna--I use sarcasm as a defense, but also as the only way this socially-awkward guy can connect and get "in" with people and conversations. And you know what? It's worked for 15 years now. some say I'm charming, but only for an hour or two. Glad you went all girly over the frog--I think it's pregnant. (not really)
Susan--They apparently overwinter in leaf litter here! I like your quote summary very much--almost makes me want to plant another tree.
I love the view from your bedroom. Wonderful sculpture. gail
My maybe-move isn't quite so imminent, but FWIW you're dealing with the whole idea a lot more positively than I am. I've neglected my garden, let plants I've overwintered for the last 5 years die for lack of water, and just generally let everything to go hell around the house, too. Maybe I need to go collect some seeds. *sigh*
Love the photos, by the way. Especially the sculpture through the grasses.
By the way, my word verification for that last comment was something like, "Ethitret"... I like how it sounds like "threat" and "epitaph" all at the same time. Maybe it's a sign I should stop whining about the loss of my garden before it even happens?
Gail--We splurged on that sculpture. A local artists did it and we sure love it.
Kim--How could you neglect plants? Oh, I'm never talking to you again. My my my. I've been collecting seeds a lot this fall, hope I can figure out how to store them correctly--I have no idea. Ethitret. Some day there will be a verification dictionary (wouldn't that be so cool?????).
I'm glad you are finding ways to cope with the time of uncertainty you are going through.
Sue--Cope? I've got 11 job apps ready to go. More coming1
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