This morning, when I stepped out the door to begin the daily ritual of watering the gardens, the Orb Weaver on the Shanty's little porch, was already taking down last night's web. Hummingbirds were darting here and there about the garden, seemingly more intent on feeding than they were on me. Their time here is done. It's time to go. Many already have. Migration is a serious thing and they know it. Even the minutest bit of mass and energy can determine whether they make it, or they don't. I hope they do. All of them.
I noticed this morning, as I went about the gardens that there's beginning to be a bit of color showing up in the foliage. Some of it has, no doubt, been brought on by the lack of rain the past several weeks, but the days are growing shorter and fall is knocking on the door.
I am taking advantage of the dryness to clean up as I water. Roots of plants that don't belong in a garden give up easily in dry, sandy soil. Thus, there's a garden hose in one hand, and a weed in the other. I am ripping out old vegetables, and only holding off on flowers that are looking quite weary and worn, until the last butterfly has fluttered away.
During summer, I don't take many blooms and blossoms from the gardens. Every time I pick up my shears to cut a bouquet, it seems each flower is crying out, "Don't take me." And, I think of the butterflies and the bees that might find food there. But, now, with the growing season almost over, I have been bringing in flowers from the fields and gardens to dry. How nice it is to have a pretty bouquet on a cold winter's day!
It has been a big week here on the farm. The last of the hay has been baled. Yay, for that last bale! We were entertained that day in the fields by a couple of young coyotes who were intent on finding their dinner on the newly mown field - perhaps a field mouse or rat. One of the coyotes was a very pretty reddish brown, but I never got an opportunity to get his picture.
time will come
A flutter of falling leaves,
short waves of heat,
The fruits of summer, stung by wasps,
bitten by squirrels,
will be gone. "
~Bread on the Water