Summer has been allowing Autumn to shine through the cracks.
It's an unsettling feeling to have cold feet and to have to rummage through the drawer for heavier socks. To be throwing on an extra layer in the evening, or turning on the heat in the morning.
We live in the Okanagan where it's usually hot well into September, falling asleep to the sounds of crickets seeping into the open windows and soothed by a melodic frog chorus that drifts across the fields. But lately the windows are nearly closed, the floors are cold, and the crickets silenced.
Falling into it allLeaves have started to fall from the maple that lives in the side garden, it's always the first to adapt to the seasonal change, and the fluffy limelight hydrangea blossoms are showing pink tinges on their petals. The yellow flowers of the Black Eyed Susans glow as the sun goes down, shimmering with caramel colored butterflies desperate for one last drink.
But Still Bumbling AlongI've come across chilled bumblebe…
Shrouded in smoke from the forest fires the garden was still calm without a breeze. Sitting so quietly and waiting like the rest of us for the hope of a cooler summer day.
It was one of those remarkable temperate days that stuck in your summer memory, brought out during winters chill when you could no longer feel your fingertips...full of lush green growth, and generously spreading warmth....the rare one that seem to come only as the bookends of summer.
Hot syrupy light was poured over everything that night... the kind that is so worth venturing out into the hot night for..the light...it laughed as it swirled among the petals, and wound through the stems of the flowers....glowing amongst soft leaves and glittering off of hard reflective surfaces. The heat radiating outwards, earth smelling of the scorched fabric...like an old-fashioned ironing board.
Last week the hummingbirds were all over the Bee Balm, now it's out of fashion, they're ignoring it and instead fawning over the …