Tuesday, 11 October 2016

Early Autumn in the Garden

And the beat goes on-
the grinding of motors, the house vibrating and what must the trees think?

On the 19th of September the water and sewer trench was dug

though we won't actually be hooked up until everyone beyond us is dug out and connected as well.
That means Free Water! for now, though, of course, we pay for our filtration and softener.

I must say the novelty has worn off as the grind of heavy equipment takes its toll.
Wally came home on a gorgeous Friday evening past to find me in bed with a book, windows open to get some fresh air, despite the house and the aluminum tool shed rattling for 3 hours worth of rolling the temporary street's gravel before this long weekend past. It's enough to make a girl crazy.

A few days later, Wally called me over to see this marvelous visitor

Out on a Limb- of Dill Weed.
I guessed it was a swallowtail butterfly caterpillar and upon researching it, it is,
and what do you know, the first reference was someone finding one on her dill!

Dill is a lovely herb, the seed heads so pretty. I enjoy it in yogurt with garlic, a quick tzatziki which I serve with almost any savoury dish, especially nice with enchiladas or any bean dish.

All lined up like chorus girls, I call this the Dance of the Dill Seed Heads

I turned to the garden, the kale looking hardy, with the tomatoes ready to pick

Two Cucumber Buddies that we hoped would grow bigger. Don't let the picture fool you; these are quite small.  They become bitter the older they get (well, isn't that just like some people)
but they still work in a salad or juiced.

Cropped from a blurry photo of a bumblebee, these are wild asters that my camera likes to bleach out.
Really, they are such a rich pinky violet.

That same afternoon, the wind-tossed trees across the hayfield.
The lighting, the heaving of the trees like lungs, this grips me with its melancholic beauty, the last breath of summer.

Meanwhile a pen and ink drawing of a bunny that I cut out and place on a page from the same book from which it was torn, a book I plan to "alter" as the latest expression goes.

For now,
let us plant ourselves in the Now,
the only time we've truly got.



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