"Whilst August yet wears her golden crown,
ripening fields lush- bright with promise;
summer waxes long, then wanes, quietly passing
her fading green glory on to riotous Autumn."
~Michelle L. Thieme, August's Crown
The grass, that which is left, crunches under foot.
The grass, that which is left, crunches under foot.
It looks as though a blow torch has been applied to some of the foliage...
...creating a "toasty" appearance to nearly everything.
I can't walk through the back yard without getting webs in my hair...{{shudder}}...
...and the tent caterpillars, well, they are another matter altogether.
I have had an utter disgust for them since my high school days.
A few of my "friends" knew of my aversion to them
and decided it would be fun to put a handful of them down the back of my dress.
It took me while to get over that traumatic event. :(
The wrinkled faces of the wilting sunflowers are no longer looking toward the sun.
Yes...the summer, it's-a waning.
~
THE WANING DAYS OF SUMMER
~a poem by Michael
The waning days of summer,
are a magic time for me.
Like the beats of some drummer,
cadence-marked for all to see.
It's more than just the dawning,
as the summer goes to fall.
It's more a season's spawning,
I feel in the mornings' call.
When gray gives way to redness,
and daylight takes the sky,
its beauty leaves me breathless,
I enjoy this Godly high.
For God does paint the cirrus,
with pigments and then with hue
a season soon to leave us
told with color and with dew.
For now enjoy these mornings
as their end comes too fast,
and fall then gives warnings,
of the cold of winter's blast.
Like the beats of some drummer,
cadence-marked for all to see.
It's more than just the dawning,
as the summer goes to fall.
It's more a season's spawning,
I feel in the mornings' call.
When gray gives way to redness,
and daylight takes the sky,
its beauty leaves me breathless,
I enjoy this Godly high.
For God does paint the cirrus,
with pigments and then with hue
a season soon to leave us
told with color and with dew.
For now enjoy these mornings
as their end comes too fast,
and fall then gives warnings,
of the cold of winter's blast.
~
But there is and up-side to all of this, without a doubt...
...the pyracantha bush is covered with lovely orange and green-ish berries...
...with a whole different crop...
...of lovely wildflowers...
...the sun filtering through the woods captures the glorious brilliance of the turning leaves...
...and everything is as it should be for the last day of August.
Yes, summer is waning but the best is yet to come!
I see a beautiful fall just over the horizon!
Happy last day of August :)
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