Our stand of cup plants has had one of fits most impressive years of flowering, and the goldfinches of which Andy is so fond have been visiting consistently for the past month, eagerly chewing on the flowerheads and burgeoning seeds, while sipping from the little leaf axel cups that give the plant its common name. They will continue their feeding for quite some time, up to the end of fall and sometimes early winter, somehow managing to find missed seeds and sustenance even after it seems they must have exhausted all of them. 

Andy and I have watched them from the kitchen window, as they congregate in groups of six to eight, fluttering about, sometimes sharing seeds in actions that look like they could be kissing. Occasionally a hummingbird gets in on the action, floating by and stealing a sip of nectar in between the finches mad scramble for food. We will miss this scene come winter. 

We have arrived, perhaps somewhat begrudgingly, at the start of September, and rather than be dour or sour about it, I’m choosing to celebrate and accept it. So much of life is determined by our reactions to circumstances rather than the circumstances themselves. The march against time is a futile and silly battle best left to those who want to waste it. 

September is here, and that means a little more summer, and some of the best part of fall: the very beginning. Here we see the trees just beginning to turn and burn, lighting up the sky with a brilliant canary yellow in shapes reminiscent of hearts, reminiscent of love. 

This is the month when some of us get a bolt of new energy, jolted into action by cooler nights and mornings. It is the month most kids return to school, renewing the journey toward education and enlightenment. It is also the month when this website has traditionally revamped itself, with a new season returning like a favorite (or hated) television show. We inspire all sorts of reactions here and hope to continue doing so. 

Happy September – get ready to flame… 

How did we end up at the last day of August? Feels like the month just began, and now it’s over. With it goes the final full month of summer. Still, there is some more of the sunny season yet to be had, and the sort of summer that happens in September can be the best kind of summer there is. We suddenly realize how wonderful it’s been, and are less quick to complain about the heat and humidity – every day could not be the last hot day of the year. 

I see the garden centers have their chrysanthemums at the ready, with promises of pumpkins in the near future. Half of the people I know are eagerly anticipating and rooting for fall – the other half is lamenting the decline and end of summer. I am somewhere between the two, resigned and regretful and ready to start a new season. 

While the heat of summer returned with a vengeance yesterday, the morning glories tell me it is almost time to look toward fall, as the gardens continue their gradual decline and quiet preparation for their winter nap. I will feed the potted pots we have until the first frost – our cherry tomatoes are going non-stop, the cucumbers have already provided food for salad, snack, and more, while the figs have finally started to ripen after appearing way back in June. The wait was worth it, but more on that in a post to come. As for the gardens, they had their last feeding this past weekend, as I don’t want to encourage a bunch of new growth just as they are supposed to be hunkering down for the season. 

For now, let’s simply enjoy the deep wondrous purples of these morning glories, which always come into their own as the world gears up for school again, when there’s a tension in the air, broken only by the cool nights and chilly mornings. This is the sort of weather the morning glories seem to love, and they are on a mad quest to bloom their heads off and scatter seeds for next year. Survival, and desperation, can be beautiful things. 

During the sleepy month of August, a month devoid of any major holidays, I mark the time around my birthday, hence this post-birthday recap following this pre-birthday recap. It’s like Christmas but in the summer, and, contrary to unpopular opinion, I’m not Jesus. With that disclaimer in mind, let’s recap the week…

An anemone far from the sea, and no less beautiful. 

A confession almost 47 years in the making.

The annual birthday suit post, because gratuitous male nudity is always in style. 

And speaking of gratuitous nudity, check out this moody night post. 

Scenes from a day of birth. 

Don’t sleep on summer so soon.

Interior renovation/meditation. 

Getting in the mood.

Wrecked by a nap.

Dazzlers of the Day included Leo Holden, Ben Cohen, Mark Hamill, Thomasa Dwyer Nielsen, Billy Eichner, and Josh Sabarra. 

My sweet-spot for napping is ten to fifteen minutes – anything beyond that and I am groggy and unpleasant and disoriented for the remainder of the day. Yesterday I laid down for a second and woke up two hours later, completely unsure of the day, time, or year. It wrecked me for hours, and rather than feeling renewed or refreshed, I felt completely devoid of energy or ambition, and any plans I had had for the rest of the day went by the wayside, replaced by some aimless wandering, unnecessary eating, and general discontentment. It reminded me why I don’t usually nap during the day – there’s always the risk of going too long. The disco naps of my youth, usually fitful exercises in forced futility, should have been enough of a lesson. Now when there is no disco to be had, there is even less of a reason for a nap. 

There is something about the resulting haze, however, that sparks creative rumination. Could we perhaps capture this space between sleep and wakefulness, and use it for some story or pictorial narrative? It feels like a dreamworld, nothing quite real or sure, with room for fanciful imaginings or outright illusions. That tricky in-between space is what has always intrigued me: the borders, the doorways, the corridors that lead from one realm to another. The pocket of time and space that bridges the conscious waking world and the unconscious sleeping world is not unlike the midnight hour – a crux of good and evil, light and dark, life and death. 

All of this from a nap that went on a little too long.