Dang, it’s late August already.
We’re hurtling toward the equinox, towards the start of fall.
Tomorrow will be two minutes and thirty-three seconds shorter that today.
In one week our days will be over fifteen minutes shorter.
In one month, day length and night length will be equal.
Goldenrod, harbinger of fall frosts, rimes yellow our roadsides and fields.
In a surely futile attempt to stem the onset of fall, I visited the garden this afternoon, camera in hand, to notice and to pay some attention to the flowers that are so gloriously abloom.
Across the path, nasturtiums natter.
This is the second year for the cheapo assortment of gladiolus bulbs we picked up in a big box store on a trip off-island. This purple one was having a complementary conversation with a nearby zinnia.
Christine said, “Good grief! Look at the color of that one!”
The garden trip was brief. We did not leave empty-handed. The vegetables are bearing well. There’s a lot of work to be done — the tomatoes and cukes are flooding in, and let’s not mention the weeds, OK?
The meal corn’s ears have matured and fallen tip down, their downturned husks are now an overcoat that will keep them dry as they finish maturing. The popcorn looks to soon do the same.
The birdbath near the greenhouse door is engulfed with riotous growth of sweet pea, jewelweed, hyacinth bean, and tithonia.
Tithonia will always be in the Wishetwurra Farm garden.