Yum Yum doesn”t like to be cold but prefers the luxuriant scarves that cover and offer the warmth needed on a pre-autumnal day of grey clouds and damp streets.
She might stay here all day in her reverie of summer days… who’s extreme heat also is not to her liking.
She longs for spring days that neither intensely burn nor send chills through her sensitive constitution.
I will provide the lush environment that pleases her.
The Wild Blueberry, Bad Sheep socks are done. I only wish this photo did the color of the deep blue justice. It doesn’t begin to capture the color.
Even though we are a full month away from autumn, I’m anxious to put these babies on. They will look amazing with my Birkenstocks.
Now, I’ll go back to working on my Magnolia sweater. It’s been sitting all summer while I waited for more yarn to arrive. The kid silk came from Latvia. After months, it finally got here. Now to try to figure out where I left off.
I’m glad I had these beautiful socks to work on, as well as some other projects, like another pair of socks for Hannah and Nori and a hat for Jesse.
Now I want to find some woolly DK self striping sock yarn in autumn and winter colorways to make some more socks. A girls gotta have a simple project on the needles too for when one needs a break from knitting a lace pattern.
The late summer weather is beautiful and pleasant, though we’re looking at some heat coming our way for next week. I’m loathe to let summer go as I wait patiently for cooler weather and fall color.
I wake to another cold and rainy day. What a relief after our brutal Summer and Fall where the earth cried for rain. From what’s predicted, we should have nothing but welcome cold and clouds and rain through the middle of the month, at least. May it be so until Spring arrives in our neck of the woods
As long as I have my coffee in the morning and my lovely warm bed and my beautiful room and knitting to do and the cats and dog lying about, I can’t imagine being more content on this November 1st.
I’m trying to put aside the earth’s sorrow and just enjoy that the holidays are here. Though I love every season I might say that this is my favorite time of year, though I can find something in every season to bring me joy.
But I love the dark days and I love when people start to put up the twinkling lights. I love to walk by houses with lights in the windows at 5:00 in the evening. I can imagine a warm welcome for everyone. I love the gatherings with drink and food and at least an appearance of love and goodwill. I love the giving of gifts no matter how great or small.
Contrary to what many, or maybe even most think that these are Christian holidays, for me they are not and never have been. Rituals of celebration and gatherings and the giving of gifts existed way before what people think of as commercialization. Make your days of celebration be what you will.
I am too much of a realist to wish a cozy home and enough food to sustain through the dark months for every person and being on the Earth… and peace… at least peace. And yet I wish it so.
My trip to Arizona was amazing. Tracy and Kelly and I visited historic sites to view missions and petroglyphs. We visited mountains and canyons, the desert and rivers and creeks.
We hiked in the Madera Canyon in the Santa Rita Mountains and did a lot of birdwatching. A coati came right to the door of our cabin… not once but three times.
Deer and wild turkeys were abundant as were the afternoon thunder storms with raindrops the size of marbles. The food we ate on our travels was a cultural adventure.
Tracy drove us along the rim of Box Canyon, an adrenaline rush to be sure. Where the road was washed out and only wide enough for the truck, we laughed or held our breath as we looked into the depths of the Canyon, yelling and telling Tracy not to look but to keep her eyes on the road.
The skies in Arizona are wide and blue or black with giant storm clouds the size of mountains. The roads are strewn with washes and signs warning of flash floods and cattle wandering the open ranges.
I greet the saguaro as we pass by. They seem like old friends and maybe ancestors. I love all of the cactus that I see as we drive long, long stretches of road through the reservations and small towns and seeming nothingness except the land, the mountains and sky. But there’s something special about the saguaro that I can’t explain.
Though October is rattler explosion time, I thankfully didn’t see a one and I thankfully didn’t see not even one bear or big cat. The universe heard my cry.
We knew the elusive Red Start was near because we could hear it’s song. We were never able to spot it until moments before we left the cabin when it hopped upon our door jamb as though to mock us and to say goodbye.
Back home we visited the Cosanti studio again where they bought me another bell. We swam in the pool and looked at the sky and read the books we bought along the way. We watched a movie or two and discussed life in general and in particular as we loved on the three old dogs and cats.
It’s the Pacific Northwest, Portland. We have dry, hot winds from the east out of the Gorge blowing in from the desert-like High Steppes.
Everything is tinder dry and crackling. The ground forms fissures like open mouths waiting for a drop of water to quench its thirst.
For the first time, I’m hearing the Cosanti bell ringing more, as our porch, where it hangs, faces east. It’s so lovely, but I’m wishing for wet, Fall weather with hard winds coming from the southwest, heavy with water from the ocean.
We need days of rain… days and days, maybe even weeks… months. We need cooler, cold, temperatures to make the sap run into the roots of the trees, so the leaves can change color and drop to the ground in soggy layers. This persistent summer-like heat feels strange, unnatural, even.
People… we look at each other in shorts and t-shirts, eating out of doors at sidewalk cafés, strolling after dark as if it were mid-summer. We smile uncomfortably, commenting about the strange weather, attemting to make light of something so unfamiliar.
Will it end? Will we get back to rain bouncing off the pavement, forming puddles, streaming from the roof, filling the gutters. Can we get back to running from the house to the car and into the store, school, coffee shop, trying not to get wet? Will the streams and rivers rise to flood levels again? Will children have to wear raincoats over their Halloween costumes ever again?
Can we get back to sweaters, raincoats and boots? Can we get back to complaining about the dark days and constant rain? Please.
Frost covers everything this morning though it’s not cold enough to freeze the water in the watering bowls set out for those of fur and feather.
The persistent wind has calmed so the old, giant maples, chestnuts, walnuts, fir, spruce and pine are not creaking in protest and the attic doors are not threatening against the hook locks.
The tiny heater tries so hard to warm the air in my room without success. This is winter (almost) in this old house. The furnace heats the first two floors though we can feel the air seeping in through the closed windows. We are grateful for this old house that shelters us.
Solstice approaches bringing longer days but colder months. I welcome the barrenness, the shades of grey. Though Winter settles in, Spring holds promises of life just below the surface and thrusts swords of iris and sprouts of crocus out of the mud and the brave honeysuckle shows tender green buds on seemingly dead and hardened vines.
There is no guilt in rest this time of year. Follow me says the earth, follow me.
Sitting in my warm bed covered in a wool shawl. Candles and incense are lit with a cup of fragrant coffee at hand while the rain pummels the world outside in the dark morning light.
This was a weird summer for annual flowers in my yard. We planted lots and lots of annuals to add color to the ever thriving perennials, like all of the shade plants like hostas and ferns and Japanese grasses, rhododendrons, azaleas and mosses and succulents, besides the sun loving roses and lilies, berries, lavender, sage, rosemary thyme… you know.
The 5 ancient maple trees suffered the most in our two waves of unbearable heat, while all the while, doing their best to keep us cool. They will survive unless this drought keeps it up.
Oh, and I can’t forget, as usual we had a major display of kiwi blossoms but no fruit. I know, I know, male and female but now we can’t “bear” to separate these two gigantic specimens who are apparently happy being childless and just hanging out together in their splendor.
But back to the geraniums and fushias and begonias. The pansies and lobelia did fine, but what happened to the firework flowers of, red, pink, orange and fushia colored blossoms? They made a weak showing but nothing to make me dream of Italian cobbled streets lined with terra cotta pots festooned and overflowing with bright geraniums.
And what of my favorites, the begonias? The squirrels, crows and raccoons kept digging up their bulbs, so they at least had an excuse. The sticks, twine, and stones were not a deterrent. Three of my bulbs survived and bravely produced nothing more than some bedraggled and chewed upon leaves. I’m used to big, thick and juicy stems struggling under the weight of giant blossoms of every color and humongous leaves shading those seemingly delicate flowers… but nary a blossom.
Two shy, late-bloomers
That brings me to these two shy fushias blossoms. They didn’t show up until the party was almost over. Of all the fushias invited to the garden, only these two came appropriately dressed… but too little too late. But I have to say that they are welcome, nonetheless. The days are dark, wet and a little cool for such attire, but they made the photo shoot afterall.
Thank you for coming dear fushias. Our party this year was a bit under attended, which makes each guest this year that much more precious.
Here we are in autumn with its own special beauty. Bye, bye summer. We’ll dream of you and wait to buy more geraniums, fushias and begonias next year. We’ll hope for a better showing of bright and exciting blossoms. You are always welcome in the garden.
eyeamdust 