Long Legs of Summer
Change is in the air; summer is stretched out prone, her long legs draped across the yard like a sunbather catching the late afternoon sun. The wildflowers are long past blooming, now sporting seedpod maracas just waiting for autumn wind to ask them to dance the samba and shake their seeds loose. The braided bulb tops from spring’s tidy fest are now dried twisted fingers, grandmothers in prayer waiting to be transported to the next life. The herbs and chives have all bolted well beyond flowering, now draping dried tendrils, hanging sun salted hair of beach combers returning from a long day searching the shore for shells and treasure.
I am of two minds in this moment, part of me wants to tidy up, bring order to this madness with my red handled nippers, fill the garden cart with these spent fancies, dump them on the burn pile and move on. The other part wants to linger a moment let each thing fall fallow in its own way, in its own time. So for the moment I sit enjoying the long light of this August afternoon, pruning shears resting…but ready.