After the fireworks are over

There is something about the week after the 4th of July.

There is a distinct difference in the air. I can't explain it--I just know it. One way I know it is by the color of the sky and the flowers that bloom and thrive in July as opposed to June....the hardly noticible changes . As I peer at the wild meadow outside my window at Easton Village, I can see the mauve succulent tips of the sedum which will probably be there for a long while thank goodness, and will turn golden ochre in the Fall and then dry to a deep maroon. Also of course , the black-eyed susans are everywhere --not a perfect bouquet, but real live plants ---like life---not perfect, but lifting their heads toward the sun everyday, and seeming to suggest "better squeeze everything out of this month----one more month and Fall will be here----, winter is coming-----or is that just a trick of mind that we contiunually use to set landmarks and time constraints on how we view summer. .......But I digress,,,,,,

Our pond meadow is very special with certain species of butterflies, moths and birds that I am determined to learn more about. So I have promised myself a walk around the pond everyday. As I finish my walk today, I see darting dragonflies, whizzing between the whirling grasses that I have learned to love in this environment. Some feathery and lightweight, others dense and spiky...I make a mental note remember to ask Meg if she wants to decorate the Xmas tree this year with grasses and natural materials like we did last year. In this world of waving creamy grass, pond flowers and cadmium orange wildflowers with smooth red berries ( that stopped me in my tracks!) I really don't want to think of Xmas yet, but I might keep my eye on the perfect topper for the tip of our tree. At home, I will dry hydrangas to give us a pale alizaerin color mixed with bronze for our "filler." So I will walk my little pond in silence each day that I work and mark the subtle changes. I am at peace in this open space and wildflowers nestled in the sloping bank of the pond. What better way to mark the passing of the days and the inevitable passage of the months of the year .

Cheerio,
ritze