A Flower is a daisy chain, a graduation, a valentine, a birth, a wedding, a leaving of this life.
July is a month that can be hard and shiny, brassy and sharp, with some days like copper pennies in the sunlight.
July is hollyhocks and hammocks, fireworks and vacations, hot and steamy weather, cool and refreshing swims, and beach picnics.
July is vegetables all out of the garden - first sweet corn on the cob dripping with butter, first tomatoes dead ripe and sunwarm, string beans, squash, crisp cucumbers.
June is when winter is holding back and spring is pulling forward; something holds and something pulls inside of us too.
May is marked by chill frosted mornings with a silver sun rising behind the trees, with red cardinals at the feeders, and with squirrels running scallops along the tops of the gray stone walls.
October is a month that arrives in a swirl of fragrant blue leaf smoke, the sweetness of slightly frosted MacIntosh apples, and little hard acorns falling. We are in the midst of cool crisp days, purple mists, and Nature recklessly tossing her whole palette of dazzling tones through fields and woodlands.
October is a month of cool crisp days, purple mists, and Nature that recklessly tosses her whole palette of dazzling tones through fields and woodlands.
September is a golden month of mellow sunlight and still clear days. ... Small creatures in the grass, as if realizing their days are numbered, cram the night air with sound. Everywhere goldenrod is full out.
September is when small creatures in the grass, as if realizing their days are numbered, cram the night air with sound.
