September 1: September begins...
Kristen Lindquist
The air feels like September: crisp at night, brilliant blue sky during the day. The bay's a deeper blue than the sky. I had lunch on an outside patio today overlooking the ocean, feeling fortunate to have such beauty (almost) in my back yard.
A fat goldfinch fledgling hung out gorging in our window feeder, even after I pulled the car into the driveway next to it.
Around the corner tucked in between the house and the propane tank, with dead leaves stuck to its web, sits a giant mottled brown-and-white spider. It's both repellent and fascinating. More fascinating than the large spider that wouldn't leave my bathroom sink this morning.
The air already smells of leaf mold. Fern fronds are browned, curled up. Hum of the crickets has a tone that's somewhere between desperate and comforting.
The Strawberry Candy day lily has bloomed again in one last fit of summer flowering.
These in-between days,
that bittersweet edge--blue skies
and one red maple.
A fat goldfinch fledgling hung out gorging in our window feeder, even after I pulled the car into the driveway next to it.
Around the corner tucked in between the house and the propane tank, with dead leaves stuck to its web, sits a giant mottled brown-and-white spider. It's both repellent and fascinating. More fascinating than the large spider that wouldn't leave my bathroom sink this morning.
The air already smells of leaf mold. Fern fronds are browned, curled up. Hum of the crickets has a tone that's somewhere between desperate and comforting.
The Strawberry Candy day lily has bloomed again in one last fit of summer flowering.
These in-between days,
that bittersweet edge--blue skies
and one red maple.