Our bee balm plant is well past its best now and there is precious little nectar left.
The rabbits have been crazy...running in and out of the bushes and skipping around like mad things.
There is a real sense of impending autumn now as colours soften and blossoms fade.
The high humidity and temperatures of late August days give way to massive thunderstorms as clouds, heavy-laden with moisture, open and drench the earth. This is the view to the distant hills, beyond the fields, behind our home, where we, with front row seats view the unfolding drama, as the storms gather and the skies open.
The late-blossoming flowers pepper the landscape with shades of deep gold and pink, and the apples are falling from the trees, providing a breakfast feast for a deer and her faun in the early morning hours. This week has reminded me of my younger years in the far western part of New York state, where tonight we would have stopped in a little village called Oramel to get a root beer float at the Wheel Inn, before going to see the Rushford Labor Day fireworks. It was always the last of the pre-school celebrations... I loved it...
Tonight, there are no fireworks, but tomorrow...I do go back into the classroom. It feels comfortingly familiar. For me, with parents who were teachers, the new year always begins in September, never in January.
And, in honor of this recognition, here is a sky that presented itself following one of those storms, nature's fireworks, nature's extraordinary flashes of colour and majesty and extraordinary light...
I am astonished by the grandeur, reminded, once again that in remaining observant, in seeking stillness, there is reward beyond measure.