September tugs at August
October overshadows September.
Leaves falling in August
a premature ejaculation of autumn
leaves one unfulfilled
and looking to September
More warmth, more comfort,
a lingering embrace
to hold on
to the moments of bliss.
As an adult, I love September
and August too.
It’s just too soon
to feel this cool
like the afterglow
dissipating before daylight,
or a lover
closing the door.
September, where are you
in October’s shadow?
The tomatoes are as green
as my naiveté
the scarce flowers
It’s too soon to feel this cool.
Sadness hangs in the air
like unripened fruit,
July leaves gyrating brown,
their youth lost
Summer is over
before full bloom —
the whirlwind pursuit
with lackluster end.
And a time to rest.
The frozen pond
and ice encrusted grass.
It’s an off season
but natural in its own right.
There’s no familiar summer, winter, spring or fall anymore
except for dates on a calendar.
Can we explain it away,
simply say the weather is as diverse as people, places, life —
that to live, to be alive, is to change?
Reduce. Recycle. Reuse they say.
But the seasons?
I am a child of four seasons
picking springtime bouquets
chasing summer fireflies
rolling in leaves
and sledding til numb.
As I matured, adult responsibilities pushed childhood activities to the recesses of my mind. But, I never dreamed the four seasons of my youth would become a distant memory, something to read about in history books of a time that once was.
As a child, leaves fell in September.
A few years ago they began in August.
This year, my yard was covered in July.
Thunderstorms previously endured in June and humidity that marked August are now daily occurrences commandeering the summer I use to know. Look forward to. Love.
The seasons have faded like leaves…
Is it a natural progression of time
the human disregard for the natural order of things
or Mother Nature’s retribution?
Spring and Autumn have silently been waving good-bye
but we were too busy, too greedy, too self-centered to notice.
Reduce. Recycle. Reuse.
Two seasons: hot and cold.
Hot and cold.
I hadn’t realized pollinator week is upon us but am acutely (and sadly) aware that most of the honey — even “organic,” is being reported to be contaminated with the glyphosate of Monsanto’s Roundup.
It’s pleasing to see more people interested in honeybee production but we need to do more — via planting and becoming more vocal — to help these bees stay busy and thrive. I’ve reblogged this post “All the Buzz about Bees” to see what you can do at home to help them.
P.S. to this post…link to the EU “banning” bee-harming pesticides. America can learn a lot from the EU’s approach to heathy living.
It’s a busy time of year for everyone: spring gardening, spring cleaning, graduations, end-of-year award ceremonies, holiday travel, and a whole lot of other happenings.
My photo of article in Midtown magazine. Photo of bee on flower by Matt Williams.
I’ve been busy working on several upcoming article assignments, and that’s the reason for my lack of writing a recent blog post. So, I thought I’d share an article I wrote for the current issue of Midtown magazine. It’s on a subject that’s near and dear to my heart, pollinators, specifically honeybees (Apis mellifera). Their numbers have been declining due to several reasons, most notably Varroa mite infestation. There is encouraging news, though. Some local beekeepers are starting to see an increase in their colonies. What can home gardeners do to help? Read more about it in my most recent article appearing in the May/June issue of Midtown…
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Last year’s leaf
frozen between time.
At five years old, my birthday was my favorite time of year. In my young adult dating years, Valentine’s Day ranked #1. Christmas anticipation didn’t last long as my dysfunctional family of origin turned a Norman Rockwell holiday into one of chaos, anger and disappointment. No fun. For years, I dreaded winter holidays when stores began displaying Christmas decorations in September. If I could only jump to January 2nd. What happened to living in the moment — for merchants, or for me?
As I’ve become more spiritual, Thanksgiving moved into top position for favorite holiday. I prefer the lower key ambience and taking more time to reflect deeply on the people who have given special meaning to my life — a simple kindness, a confidante’, an excellent health care provider…
But this year, things changed. It occurred to me that many of our holidays have been virtual holidays, perhaps the precursor to the internet’s fake news. After all, no one knows for sure if Christ’s birthday was December 25th. Valentine’s Day is just as mysterious. And Thanksgiving — well what am I giving thanks for if my ancestors came to America, killed the Native American Indians then stole their homeland only to destroy it? That reality sickens me.
I’ve long felt that Thanksgiving was the more solemn of holidays but now more deeply understand why. No more “celebrating” fake holidays for me. Expressing gratitude on any arbitrary day, and as many days as possible throughout the year are my days of thanks giving. Now that’s something real, and worth celebrating.
There’s a traditional Native American Seneca greeting I love any time of the year: Na:weh Skennio
It means Thank you for being! For all that you do and for who you are, I thank you for being. – Jamie Sams in The Fabric of the Future
And that makes any day of the year a real holiday in my heart.
Coming into the house, after what appears to be the last unseasonably warm October day, I glimpsed again at the magnificent colors punctuating the grey cloudy sky — burgundy flowering plums, orange maples, yellow-green birches, tanned leather oaks, fiery red sassafras — their leaves twirling in the wind then freckling the autumn ground.
Curious, I look closer.
Round, oval, small, huge, striped, speckled, smooth, crimped, crumpled and curled.
Each one is distinctly beautiful in its own unique way.
I am convinced we were created to be different and our diversity is as fascinating as nature’s endless combinations.
It is man who tied hatred to diversity.
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