#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream
. . . Let me remember you, voices of little insects,
Weeds in the moonlight, fields that are tangled with asters,
Let me remember you, soon the winter will be on us,
Snow-hushed and heartless. . .~ “Indian Summer,” Sara Teasdale
A rollicking storm last night; tonight, a clear sky, full, Harvest moon. Is it full? It’s beaming over the field. I woke fairly early and went out early for a lovely autumn walk as the foliage changes. I am letting the garden go. Did not get in there today. I do not know if my butternut squash are going to have time to beat the frost. There are watermelon to pick. One or two last cucumbers. I went for a massage. It was A plus. Every muscle was grateful. Then, one last (?) trip to Home Depot. I bought hydrangeas and azaleas. Frank teased me a bit, but dug the holes, most of them for me. I wanted very much to feel as if the garden, my shade garden, made with plants my friend gave me upon moving, was finished this season. I wanted a border around it. I still needed to plant the hosta as well. It was hot and bright in the yard and I was so happy to be outdoors even though I felt I should also be indoors at my writing projects. Everything got planted, and I was satisfied. There was some extensive weeding on the driveway garden where I put the final two hydrangeas near by new plantings and bench. This was the last garden area to weed. Done! Everything new got a long drink. I could have stayed out longer, drinking in this pleasant weather. We went to dinner outdoors at a friend’s house; so I did stay out in lovely September, a long, fresh, relaxing day. And the river is receding as the foliage on the banks reddens and yellows into autumn. It’s so hard to believe all the garden plants will be resting for the long winter ahead so soon.
