Suddenly, the days are shorter.
That’s always a surprise about September, even though they’ve been shortening since the last days of June. Every day a minute sooner. We didn’t mind on July Fourth, so eager were we for the fireworks to begin, but now it’s adding up. And I have to rearrange my evening schedule if I want to arrive at the bay before the sun sets!
Oh, but September’s lovely. The heat and humidity of Not Very Long ago has fled, to be replaced with days in the 70s, evenings in the 50-60s (Fahrenheit temps here, for you international types, sorry). Oh, it’s beautiful and in the evening, the air’s scented with a touch of woodsmoke. Mmmm. It’s been nice weather for snuggling on the couch with a few movies, a warm blanket and a purring kitty. And that, quite honestly, is why I’m a little belated in presenting you the photos of September’s first evening.
Here’s a shot of the fierce Gray Grazer, taken on that evening’s purr-ambulation. I honestly had no idea his tongue was that long.
Our regular routine has shined a light for me on how important the greens are in his diet. In preparation for the coming dark months, when we’ll no doubt wander outdoors less frequently, I potted up some fresh cat grass seed for him this week.
Damn, look at that tongue.
All around town, the autumn sedums are beginning to turn reddish brown as their tiny flowers begin to open. This plant, in a shadier spot than many, is still pretty pale, but that’s not stopping the bumblebees from visiting.
Say, I don’t have a photo of it to share with you yet, but I was impressed (while doing some deadheading in the driveway garden the other day) to discover how large a plant the Imperial Chrysanthemum has become this summer, hidden amongst the daisies and rudbeckia. It’ll still be another week or so before it begins to bud, but I suspect it may put on a real nice show this fall. Hee hee!
These roses along the fence at the driveway are great. They started at the end of May and have bloomed continuously throughout the summer. I must confess I hardly tried to keep up with deadheading the plant, and the bloom’s gone on regardless.
Their scent is lovely, too. Nice old roses.
I’m pleased to say that my evening walks are returning to some regularity now, which I love. I’ve seen the neighborhood in the clothes of all its seasons now. I know the colors of the roses in our neighbors’ yards and where to look for the first spring bulbs next year. I know where puddles collect after the rain (and where they freeze to daunting ice in February). I’ve come to love the feeling and flavor of the saltmarsh on my tongue at just a particular point in the tidal cycle.
The Nest has felt like home since our first night here a year ago, but having spent the year learning a little of the place beyond our walls reinforces that feeling. And the walking’s fun as always and also good for what ails me, too.
And just when I find myself thinking too much, the sunset skies this week have been just spectacular for distraction this week, with golden splashdowns on a mirrored bay and cloud streaked skies alive with color after the sun slides beyond the horizon. Out of all that pomp and herald, the soon-to-be full Harvest Moon shimmers into the night sky and it’s quite a show.
But you probably don’t need any more narration from me.
(Look, seaside goldenrod!)