Last burst of summer

Words don't really do justice to the colors of late summer. I am savoring them all as soon enough fall will be here with a different set of colors which, though I appreciate autumn's beauty, nothing is like summer for me. Yes, the equinox is a month away, but it always seems as though with Labor Day summer is over.

I've been watching the birds to see if they are beginning to gather for the migration, but so far they seem oblivious to any change coming. I am seeing less of the grosbeaks at the feeders and more of the smaller birds, not that I know that has significance.

The nights have cooled off to around 40 F which means, whatever it may look like outside, the first frost is lurking to nip the flowers and garden. Right now with the french doors open, the cooler night air is making for great sleeping-- except on the nights I lie awake thinking of the things I need to get done before fall. Roses need trimming again, the garden is getting overgrown with weeds, and if the greenhouse isn't readied soon, the plants on the deck will have to find another shelter. With grocery stores selling food year round, I don't have to make jam, can, or freeze unless I want to; but the feeling inside me still says prepare, prepare, prepare-- winter is just around the bend. Instincts go deep.

This is the first year I have planted sunflowers, and I am loving their richness. Their colors and size vary as the light seems to turn them almost transluscent. They have grown as high as ten feet which makes them the most impressive thing around, but also makes photographing them a challenge. I don't like to cut them as they last longer in the garden.

I did cut those lavender gladiolas for the dining room table, but only because I planted them to be cutflowers... but usually forget I did. The canna lilies next to them have put on a showy display most of the summer. Heat agrees with them.

A new bull calf was born last week and looks like he's going to make it despite his mother initially rejecting him. Those heifers have the baby; then look around as though what was that? It's not mine.

Thanks to some time in the barn with a headgate (metal bars that hold the cow so she cannot escape, but can lie down), she was persuaded to stand still long enough for the calf to feed and for her to realize that little critter was kind of cute. Shucks, maybe she wanted it after all.

The first day they were out with the herd, the calf ran alongside her, almost skipping he was so full of energy. At the back, where the herd was, the first thing the mother did was bring him to her own mother as though seeking her benediction. Once approval was given, I watched the other cattle come to sniff of the newcomer. From a rejected little heap, he is now a proud member of a herd. Instincts go deep.

(All pictures can be enlarged by clicking on them)