I’m not at all confident that this will be the last time I go for a swim this year, but it’s a definite possibility, and rather than look back a few weeks from now and wish I’d made more of it, I dove into the water determined to make a memory. The air above the water was chilly – the first notably cool day we’ve had in months – but the sun was out, still cutting through the wind that was suddenly picking up. 

On the water, little white blossoms from the seven sons flower tree floated across the surface, and occasionally the perfume from the flowers still dangling above the pool carried on the breeze. All these vestiges of summer should have been a comfort, a sign that bits of the sunny season were lingering until the very end, but mostly it just felt a little sadder being this near the close of the season. We are less than a week away from the arrival of fall. 

It will be sad to see this summer slip into the past, so sunny and warm and glorious was it, but most of me is ready. Too much of a good thing has rarely been a good thing. Nature knows how to pace herself, and I trust in the seasonal time-table she has put in place. I know a number of people who would love for it stay perpetually summer, the way the sun sticks around year-round in places like Southern California – and there are moments when I think that would be lovely, but those moments are almost always at the tail-end of winter, just as the wondrous cycle of spring is about to begin. 

Right now, the idea of nine more months of summer feels stale and stagnant, and I’m ok with turning to the next seasonal page. After this one last dip… 

Rejuvenating our hydrangeas (which had not been enjoying the heat and sun of this past summer) our recent run of rain has lended a fresh restart to the summer-beleaguered garden. The lawn is looking lush and tall, the fat leaves actually flopping over with their fullness, and the ferns have actually held their color. It’s as if summer is determined to shine beautifully until fall absolutely insists on her exit. 

Amid the madness of Mercury in retrograde, this pretty scene of post-storm beauty is a welcome reminder to pause and take in the moment. Under the rain, I’ve been hurrying by these plants without hesitating, and I’ve been missing this show. I need to remember that it’s ok to get a little wet. It’s just water, and there isn’t much left of summer. 

Yesterday’s commute home was one of the worst I’ve ever had, thanks to a deluge of rain that opened up right before I left the office. Certain parts of Downtown Albany looked like they were under a foot of water, and I prayed the Mini Cooper would glide me home. Just a few days before this I’d been perusing the local nursery, where I found the flaming celosia you see here – a late-summer show. The juxtaposition was just another product of Mercury in retrograde, or so I am telling myself in an endless quest to make sense out of nonsense. 

Watching the raging currents that were once solid streets, I once again thrilled at the newness of a stretch of road I’d driven through hundreds of times, all because of a storm. Nature orchestrates a new perspective at precisely the moment we think we’ve seen it all. Happily jolted into this new experience, I remembered to go with the flow, bend with the trees, and let the river swerve around me.

“Living only for the moment, savoring the moon, the snow, the cherry blossoms and the maple leaves, singing songs, loving sake, women and poetry, letting oneself drift, buoyant and carefree, like a gourd carried along with the river current.” – Asai Ryoi, Tales of the Floating World

Next week the season of fall will officially be upon us, and while there’s always the brigade of pumpkin-loving autumn amors, I will be one of those sorry to see summer go, especially after the banner one we’ve had this year. Still, there are joys to be had in the run-up to the changing of the seasonal guard, starting with this Sedum ‘Autumn Joy’ which has long been one of the most-celebrated garden plants for a perennial bed or border. 

This is one of those rare plants that has actually four seasons of beauty and interest. In the early spring, it forms rosettes of leaves in silvery sage, with cool tones of silver dusting its edges. It keeps this fresh color as spring ripens into summer, at which point it begins to send up tight buds of promised blooms, which come just as summer shifts to fall. It will hold onto these, as they turn from light pink to dusty rose. As fall gives way to winter, the enchantment begins. 

The leaves will drop, leaving the stems naked and drained of color. The blooms will have dried to a burnt umber crossed with copper – looking like rust, and surprisingly resplendent against a backdrop of snow. These sturdy umbrels will hold any snow that falls atop their heads like caps, creating a marvelous effect in the winter – and this will last and continue until the spring finds them sending up new green stalks again. 

It is a plant I hold close to my heart because it sees us through the entire year without complaint or high maintenance demands. This particular specimen was a seedling that sprouted many yards away from its mother plant. It was actually on the outside of our fence, in the unkept and untended section of the backyard where it managed not only to seed itself, but to come back for several years until it was big enough to transplant to a prime location in the garden. I like plants that prove their worth. 

Normally we’d kick off Monday morning with a recap, but things are switching up a bit as we get to it at the end of the day. That’s right, Monday’s already over, and in a period of Mercury in retrograde I am taking every little happy step with gratitude and appreciation. On with the weekly recap that includes a couple extra posts. 

It began in stormy fashion, as a recent piece on the alleged abuses and cover-up inflicted by some in the Catholic Church rekindled memories of the priest who told our confirmation class that the Bishop might touch us, but that it wasn’t a big deal.

A fig finale comes to full fruition.

Rods of gold start the September fire.

A meditation on the verge of Mercury moving into retrograde motion.

The twins and I embarked on an end-of-summer weekend in Boston. It was a history-laden voyage, but we managed to survive it and tell the tale. 

The day this website always goes dark.

My Dad’s 92nd birthday.

Dazzlers of the Day included TJ Collins, Rita Moreno, Zac Efron, Leslie Jordan, Kelly Clarkson, and Kathy Hochul.