Slow? Slow? Quick? #phenology

Day before yesterday was the Ides (13th) of September. A week from today is the Autumn Equinox. At 3:30 pm the local outside temperature is 90℉. The heat index is in the mid-90s. We have exhibited an uncharacteristic display of common sense by foregoing yard work today. We may revert tomorrow, although it's supposed to be about as warm and humid as today, because there are still piles of buckthorn that need to be moved to the brush pile for burning. On the other hand, if we manage to do ourselves in by failing to heed a heat advisory, there's lots of buckthorn we'll never get around to pulling and burning. Come the Ides of February we'll no doubt remember this weekend fondly but for now we could truly stand more reasonable, seasonable weather.

Summer storms now in three seasons

Photo by J. Harrington

Last night we were in St. Paul at the Wailin' Jennys concert in the O'Shaughnessy auditorium. Much of the trip home, we watched an astounding lightning display in the northern sky. The radar display in our cell phone showed the storm to be about two counties (75? miles) north of us. Dog walking this morning, there were still flashes in the northern sky. None of it came near us but we remembered watching "heat lightning" on Summer nights when we were a child. If the extended forecasts are close to being accurate, a week from now will be 25 or 30 degrees cooler and more thunderstorms will fill the skies. In fact, by early October last year the water in the bird bath was beginning to ice up. Sometimes change comes almost all at once.

October can be a quick-change artist

Photo by J. Harrington

Many of our ferns have already turned brown. We've pulled most of the feral raspberry vines from the back yard. We're going to reclaim what once was a small grassy area and start a pollinator garden just outside the back door to the garage. If things go as usual, come Spring there'll be one or more pocket gophers munching on fresh wildflower roots. We'd probably be more tolerant of pocket gophers but they don't seem to be having much affect on the sand burrs that keep getting caught in the bottoms of our jeans' legs and between the pads on the poor dogs paws.

The Season's Campaign

By Joyce Sidman

I.  Spring

We burst forth,

crisp green squads

bristling with spears.

We encircle the pond.

II.  Summer

  

Brown velvet plumes

bob jauntily. On command,

our slim, waving arrows

rush toward the sun.

III.  Fall

All red-winged generals

desert us.  Courage

clumps and fluffs

like bursting pillows.

IV. Winter

Our feet are full of ice.

Brown bones rattle in the wind.

Sleeping, we dream of

seed-scouts, sent on ahead.

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