October 31, 2019
A few details from the month now ending.
Month: October 2019
In my 80s
October 30, 2019
A call comes through the autumn forest, “Do you remember?” Again, “Do you remember the seasons? Do you hold those memories close?”
winter 2019
spring 2019
summer, 2019
autumn, 2019
Do you remember?
In my 80s
October 29, 2019
This morning I escape to the garden. That verb happens to be the right one; I need an environment removed from ricocheting impeachment talk, from frightening California fire bulletins, from the caustic words “dog” and “whimpering,” from angry street demonstrations around the world.
The garden offers silence. At this moment the garden yields itself, relinquishes its harvest-time dominance, submits to the news of frost later this week.
Now at garden’s bedtime, it silently welcomes a colorful covering of red bud, walnut, gum tree, gingko and maple leaves. Other leaves enter the pile behind the garage to be transformed into rich compost.
The garden, even in its silent dying, renews my spirit.
In my 80s
October 28, 2019
Garden # 3
There are good gardeners who prefer to avoid bulbs that must be dug up in the autumn. But golly some of those bulbs make a show you don’t want to miss. This week I dug the calla bulbs, laying them with their stalks on a board in the garage; the stalks will dry up quickly. I’ll move the bulbs to the basement when the garage temp falls into the 30’s.
The cannas don’t want to be forced into hibernation so quickly. After a heavy frost they can be dug, joining the callas in the garage. There isn’t much of a bloom these days but we appreciate what the cannas can give.
For such beauty, planting and digging and planting and digging are quite worth it.
In my 80s
October 27, 2019
The garden remains totally intoxicated, having imbibed rain all of yesterday. Irvington? Take a look.
Some wind damage.
Lots of leaves
The walker said these leaves are red. True?
Pleasant Run and the bridge at Ellenberger Park.
Fence
Home again.
In my 80s
October 26, 2019
Garden — 2
According to the medical charts, I am way, way colorblind, but according to my experience, I ride a rainbow. Here is my garden at the moment.
back close to the fence
fescue grasses above the bank
the gingko leaves beginning to turn
coxcombs
late peppers
Among the succulents.
We don’t have to drive to the state forest to see autumn.
PS It’s raining today!
In my 80s
October 25, 2019
Garden — 1
October in this household means, among other privileges, gardening.
Yes, planting season renews the spirit, cultivation season offers soul cleansing, harvest hosts thanksgiving, but October ranks with them.
Ours is a city lot, the house occupying 1,800 square feet of it. The “improved” elements — house, patio, driveway, garage and walkways claim less than 50% of the property, allowing plenty of space for lawn or garden. We opt for garden.
In a joint effort this month we re-located several plants. Excess Japanese blood grass in the front garden was carried by bucketloads to the top edge of the embankment that falls to a fence marking the property line. Three bellflower from behind the garage found a new home near the bird bath. Three fescues (“cool as ice”) came here in an arrangement purchased at Sullivans in April. We liked the grasses so much we took them from their arranged home and adopted them. They are now thriving in the back lawn. Two small hydrangeas were crowded by calla lilies, so we moved them to freer space out front.
By far the biggest move had to do with two large hydrangeas whose blooms wilted in the sunshine. I dug two large holes behind the garage, one where the bellflowers had been, the other just beyond the water barrels. Such size was too much for me, so I first dug deep around each plant’s root system, then used a heavy digging iron (with a stone as the fulcrum) to lift each one onto a board which fit nicely on our two-wheeled dolly. Planting them was much easier than digging them. Both the small hydrangeas out front and the monsters out back seem quite happy.
one of the moved hydrangeas
In my 80s
October 23, 2019
A sunrise. And then another hike in the woods along Lye Creek?
And now back to work.
In my 80s
October 22,2019
Into the woods at The Juniper Spoon
In my 80s
October 21, 2019
Today I feel the presence, the blessing of silence. Thomas Merton articulates what I don’t have words for.
I [am] able to relax practically all day in a blessed aridity in which things are, once again, mercifully insipid and distasteful. What a relief to be indifferent to things, after having been pushed around by a crowd of different intoxications, some of which seem to be intensely holy and some of which do not even bother to wear a disguise.
To be indifferent to things, to intoxications — in particular, what to do this afternoon.
The only Merton words that don’t fit well are “blessed aridity” because the sky this moment is raining on parched central Indiana. Somewhere close to where I am, the farmers are gathered over coffee, talking as farmers do, words nuanced by corn and soybeans.
On the other hand, “blessed aridity” defines quite well a contrast from our usual quest to be fertile, creative, productive and consequential, our not knowing that our “fertility” produces a lot of weeds.
To relax practically all day.
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