my feet say it for me while i do love the autumn temperatures that have finally arrived i'm reluctant to let all of summer go.
i was relieved when the first frost did not blacken the morning glories and until i find winter footwear as enjoyable as Elaine's i'll keep wearing socks in my sandals no matter how gauche my young friends and fashion snobs think it is
happily the straps are adjustable and i can don thicker socks as the frosts get frostier.
when i got out of the car a lovely oak leaf was there on the ground looking as if it had been caught in a wave of music as it drifted earthward i picked it up and found that it held a surprise: it was peach-fuzzy soft on its pale, arching back.
oak leaf, picked up off the driveway leading into Greenwood Gardens posing next to a curious leaf-like etching in the cement patio which will also disappear, as restoration projects begin:
on a slate slab:
oak leaf from another angle revealing another aspect of its final dance:
'Stoneleigh Cherry' It's the smallest dahlia in this garden (these images are larger than life-size the pom poms are slightly smaller than a golf ball) and it draws me close each and every time. Growing them in a 24" tall container puts them at eye level.
larger views will pop open if you click on any one
The first day in Maine late summer-like a thin haze on the horizon cool air, but no long sleeves required
On the ferry i heard someone say "Indian Summer" but it isn't, strictly speaking those are the exquisitely perfect balmy days following the first frost. Summer simply refuses to let go even here, so far north.
Evergreens everywhere running right up to the sea. With all the car windows open the scent of balsam washes over us
Day Two At the edge of the small island we scramble over rocks
Some are still sharp lichens beginning to digest only the very edges
a careful step further onto those the waves are washing smooth
We roll up shirt sleeves and pant legs.
"Did you get in the water?" "Yes. Clear up to my ankles."
It's always cold but wading in the summer cold sea feels good under the hot sun.
Sea maidens however, are frolicking about but all we see of them is their golden tresses