The last week of August has come and gone. It was an emotional doozy, one that required a lunch-time treat of the pistachio ricotta cake as seen below, but this blog runs on autopilot so that’s what it did. As summer winds down outside, this website continues on its journey. To that end, here is the weekly recap.

Trouble in the trees.

Pharmacists are the happiest people.

Birds and bees and hummers.

The office life.

It really is a confusing time.

Keep on treading.

The barely-pink candle.

Gratuitous clickbait in the form of shirtless male celebrities.

Boston birthday balm.

Glory of a coquette morning.

September swimming.

Dazzlers of the Day include Kaelan Strouse and Naomi Osaka.

Greeting September with a swim is the best way to remind the month that it is still summer, and it will be even after Labor Day is over tomorrow. School may begin (sorry kids!) but summer continues, and the pool remains open and heated. Donning trunks of coquette cherries (and leaving the Speedo to the Olympians) I step into the warm water, remembering… or trying to remember. 

Swimming is different in September, in the same way the light is different. It comes with the constant threat of cold – something that doesn’t happen in July or August. No matter how warm the water is, or even the air on a sunny day like today was, you get the feeling that you are right on the verge of being cold, like it might suddenly turn chilly and you’ll have to rush inside.

On this day, a pleasantly sunny throwback to the sunny days that this summer was kind enough to grant us, I swim in relative silence. The insects are buzzing and humming, and the air conditioner mumbles in the distance, but mostly it is quiet. There is no coquette music playing, no kids screaming and laughing. It is the end of summer and it happens in silence. 

The water is still too, matching the quiet. Even as I paddle into the deep end, the waves seem less rowdy, less active than they did a few weeks ago. Summer’s wind-down can’t help but be a little melancholy. 

The wind dances along the treetops, while the bees flit among the blooms of the seven sons flower tree. When the pool first opened, we swam beneath the blooms of the cherry tree – this is a more fragrant, though less showy, bookend of floral splendor. The promise of September coming soon has been answered with quiet confirmation. 

While the morning glory typically signifies the end of summer, this pink variety harkens to the early days of our coquette season. For the first day of September, this pink morning glory bridges our coquette theme with the continuation of summer, marking its final weeks while gently preparing the way for fall. Apologies – I shouldn’t even use the f-word when most of September is still technically summer. To that end, let’s head outside into the sun for another summer Sunday… while it lasts. 

The increasingly-tumultuous weather we’ve had of late has coaxed a couple of azaleas into bloom, far from their typical blooming season. The throwback to spring is bittersweet given the late hour of this summer, but I paused to look at this anomaly, enjoying memories of when it all began. Spring feels very distant. Summer does too, even if we’re still in it. 

There is danger here, especially if these buds were intended for next spring. I would never rob the future for a momentary jolt of pleasure in the present. 

The garden has been quietly busy of late, with our cup plants and butterfly bush providing fertile feeding and pollinating ground for the birds and bees and a hummingbird as seen here. Both continue in their long blooming period, allowing for enjoyment by these visitors that will last through the start of winter. The bees and insects will depart first for the season, then the hummingbirds will go – only the finches will keep coming back into the slumber time. 

The gardens have been wanting to go to sleep for a while now. I stopped fertilizing and feeding them a few weeks ago. Once the ostrich ferns take that turn to brown, it is senseless to try to keep things going and growing. The only things I keep feeding are the container plants, as they will require the nutrients for as long as we want them to be presentable. Let us not be too quick to overlook the importance of these plants in the fall. Cool nights don’t mean an instant end to the pageantry. Not yet… 

In the meantime, the birds and the bees are still humming along…

A rustling and a scuffle, held high above the ground where such things usually take place, drew my attention to the crux of the Eastern white pine and a coral bark Japanese maple tree. A pair of squirrels quarreled or played in the arms of the latter, sending a few maple leaves fluttering to the floor, before they charged into the feathery planes of the pine boughs. What could have caused such a tussle? The curiosity into the lives of squirrels takes me blessedly out of the day, and anything that takes us out of ourselves is a good thing. How many hours have I spent self-fucking the ego? Surely enough for a lifetime. 

Let us look to the trees, and beyond to the sky, to figure out ourselves through detachment and distance. It all goes around and comes around, and around and around we go…

Surviving another year on this crazy-ass earth is no mean feat, even if most of us still living have done it for as many years as we’ve been here. Saying a great deal of nothing with a maddening cadence of words has become this blog’s stock in trade. On with this post-birthday recap of the week that I turned 49…

A coquette cradle song fit for a fit of crying. 

A gratuitous Glen Powell armpit post, for those who admire such scenes. 

When fall arrives, a coquette summer departs.

Helianthus wet and wild – little faces of sun that refuse to be drowned. 

Bark and structure – the architecture of the garden.

Coquette queens.

A birthday on the cusp of many things.

Feeling all of my 49 years.

The post-birthday sigh of relief.

Dazzlers of the Day included Catherine O’Hara, Tim Walz, and Todd Alsup.