.it is beautiful in the garden-if one looks beyond some of summer's dying best.
there are hangers on-an overgrown stand of dahlias that did nothing last year when I thought them full of promise.
now in september they decided they live- and set out to show up their faded summer neighbors.
purple and pink exclusively.
pulling up a weed here and there-more should have been done-but oh the back tires easily.
I relish even the weed pulling-there's something about hands to soil that connects me in a flash to my father. he was an outdoors man-not the hunting kind-but the nature kind.
he belonged to the breeze- whether he was walking a new sown field surveying-or simply sitting in the grass surveying his fine green fescue.
"Laborare est Orare"
portrait of my father
the passion flower carries on-making its presence known and still it climbs up and up.
I call the one at the gate-Mrs. Delany.
Mrs. Delany's flower cutting
Passiflora incarnata "Delany"
it grows like a weed, Mrs.Delany does-as does the creeping Fig,
now grasping hold of the rough brickwork on the house. it typically dies as colder nights creep in-but who knows-the dahlias surprised.
Ficus pumila "Ascendere"
(with Agave americana)
as I turn the corner -the last of morning glory.
the weather is turning and there will soon be colder nights and blessed cooler days.
I have plans to broaden a bed or two and add some Italian Cypress.
perhaps I'll call them Vincent & Theo.
Cupressus sempervirens "van Gogh"
brush up on your LATIN here