Sunday, August 7, 2011

August in the Mountains: Late Bloomers

Late bloomers struggling for a last glimpse of sun, my zinnias make do with not quite enough sunlight and not quite enough space at the edge of the garden.  Our lush spring greens --mustard, lettuce, collards, chard--are long gone, and I haven't yet seeded my  fall garden.  This time of year leaves me looking at bare garden soil and tomato plants that have once again disappointed us.  But the cucumbers are coming on strong.  Pickles!  Oh yes.....

Hearts a'Busting open their seedfire, their audacity giving me hope for busting out of my own late summer lethargy.

A lone butterfly clinging to ironweed makes an apt metaphor when I feel time, and summer, slipping away.  Hang on, golden wings!  Soon you will turn into golden leaf hanging onto the branches atop our ridge, then lingering awhile in flight before settling like golden and russet wings to the leafmeal below.

Time's arch, a swish of leaves presaging fall, makes me stop to catch one nano-second of late summer light with a shutter click.

Ironweed, I love you more than Joe Pye Weed, though both of you stand tall against the coming  autumnal transformations, determined to come back again when the timing's right, late bloomers
who never give up, sturdy homesteaders staking your claim to the places you've sunk your  roots into,
your stubborn roots.  May my roots hold fast, as stubborn as yours.   


  1. Beautiful signs of fading summer -- I love Ironweed and Joe Pye -- heck, I love Goldenrod.

    In this morning's coolish air, I fancied I caught a hint of coming Fall.

  2. I fancied I caught a hint of coming Fall
    in this morning's air, or was I caught instead
    by what I foolishly desire, to step outside of now
    into what waits beyond the rifflement
    of August days, the oozings
    of the cider-press,
    the coming thrall
    of Fall
    of Fall

  3. I love this post,Kay. The fall flowers promise me the cool weather is coming and soon the shadows will slant differently. When I think of fall I always go back to my first year of college in Milledgeville, GA. The campus littered with fall leaves like I'd never seen before, changed me into a child wanting to lie down in them.
    Your lovely poem above says it all for me.

  4. Lovely flowers and poem. I love the zinnas, my yard is covered in the old time zinnas. They grew so big this year for some reason. Fall is my favorite time of year. Susie