and wild strawberries, drops of wine, the dew.
The nettles that methodically overgrow
the abandoned homesteads of exiles.
(Translated, from the Polish, by Clare Cavanagh.) From the New Yorker of September 24, 2001
June's long days have passed, and July's and August's. The days are a little shorter, the air a little cooler in the night. It is still summer in the Coastal South and the daytime air is like warm liquid. Butterflies are frantically working the blooms of Tithonia 'Torch' and Pentas in all colors.
Gulf Muhly grass has commenced to form the inflorescenses that will be hazy pink in about a month.
Periwinkles are at their best.
I hear the low-pitched hum of hummingbirds among the flowers but seldom see them. High pitched twittering following the hum prove that it was a hummingbird that I heard and not a big moth. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of one between low trees and sky.
Angel Trumpets are bigger than before, adding new buds every day until frost
which seems a long way away right now.
The greenhouse is a hot, humid place in the daytime, full of mostly purple
Alternanthera that volunteered in the floor. There are a few cuttings here and there.
Sulphur butterflies play in and out. There's a
volunteer plant I don't recognize.
Tillandsias and Bromeliads that bloomed last Spring
have added new pups as the bloom stalks turned brown.
Fall chores will include potting up offsets.
Caesalpinias are in full bloom and Candlestick Cassias are forming buds for fall bloom.
Muscadine Grapes are ripe; Scuppernongs are not far behind.
Do you see signs of fall?