Buff the Cat moves to new parts of the garden to catch sun rays. It’s mid-August, with fall fast approaching. She crawls through a rose bush, then gingerly turns around avoiding the thorn-encrusted canes to settle for a nap, her head resting of the wood edging a pathway.
The air is delicious. High clouds string out like linen towels on a drying line. A light breeze riffles the slender leaves of liriope. Spent stalks of liatris resist the wind, tall sentries at the end of another season of bloom. Marjoram cascades down the bank on either side of brick steps. Bees bounce from flower to flower as they gather late nectar and pollen. Strong straight rays of sun burrow into the stone patio under the wild cherry tree. Shadows cast by the pergola are sharp-edged, non-nonsense expression of late summer shade geometry. Up the hill, layers of green ground cover, weeds, trees -- all mingle in endless overlaps of foliage. The morning temperature, at 65, hints at cooler weather to come.
A robin fledgling rolls and scratches on the flat roof of the woodshed then files into a blueberry bush where a flutter of leaves reveals his continuing discomfort. Then, he’s off to the birdbath where he pecks at his new feathers, then squats in the water as if it might provide some relief
No comments:
Post a Comment