Coming Up for Air

It has been a challenging week, with a full time of interaction with the "Truth in Translation" production from South Africa and then some turmoil at the church. It is also just a busy time of year, this "start up" season, and I have had a wedding or a funeral a week every week this month, which, added to everything else, has been exhausting.

I have incomplete posts waiting to be published. I've gained five pounds since August 4. And I haven't found the time to go through my library to find the books I want to donate to the book sale . . .

Still . . .

Mornings have been beautiful these past few days, and sunrise is getting later and later in the day. 7:19 this morning! When middle school kids are starting at 7:20 or so!

Autumn will soon be here. I harvested my dill weed crop the other evening for a salmon and rice dinner. Barely a teaspoon of dill--what happened? The area at the edge of the driveway that I set aside for herbs was not aparticularly fertile, but I added topsoil and compost )and some manure, as I recall). The herbs I planted that I has started early in doors virtually disappeared in the spring rains (fennel in starter pots, and clumps of thyme). I put in a butterfly bush at the back of the herb "patch," and it grew a few inches all around, and seems to have "set in." (I hope it will flower next year.) The dill I planted directly into the newly enriched bed sprouted quickly but never really "took root."

My hope is that, by planting seed only directly into the herb garden next year, and after adding some composty nutrients, that next year might offer some great weed. (Note twinkle in eye.)

The whole Idea behind planting twenty square feet of dill was to have a pile of it ready for a crayfish eating party in August. Somehow that didn't materialize this year. (Hell, I didn't use my Mojito mix until a few days ago. Where did the summer go?) Next summer I'll reconnect with "being Swedish" with my summer foods and fetes.

The trees are beginning to turn. I need to cut the grass before the sycamore starts to do her wild work of covering the back yard with enormous leaves and fragments of bark. I want to neaten things up, put on a winter fertilizer, and fill in some empty patches as the warmest days end.

I'm making some choices regarding evergreens that are coming out around the lilacs that I planted last fall; clearing a way for a clump of river birch in another corner; preparing to add a couple of inches of humus and topsoil to the shade garden, after the killing frost; and trying to cut back on some of the plants that are taking over the edges of the yard (between my house and the empty houses which abut my yard).

The sun just peeked above the garage, yellow and cool. A long yellow strand appears in the shadows the othe yard next door, brightening the needles of the sad evergreen that stands between me and the kennel next door. The sound of highways in the distance is steady, enveloping this end of Flint. My stomach growls.

A car drives by.

Good morning.