"Begin the hours of this day slow"

Gardening and blogging time have been in short supply over the last few weeks.  My fall garden "to-do" list is still very long!  There isn't enough daylight at the end of my work days and the weekends have been full.  As we approach the end of October, night falls earlier and earlier each day.  Soon I will drive off to work just as the sun is rising and drive home in the dark.   I'll miss the late fall afternoons with the sun shining through the trees and casting long shadows on the grass.

 My quick morning walk through the garden to take in the color of the fall bloomers is 

precious when the daylight hours are short.

And when I encounter a  visiting Monarch, as I did this morning, it becomes even more precious.

O hushed October morning mild,
Begin the hours of this day slow. 

from "October" by Robert Frost


Carolyn at This Grandmother's Garden has invited gardeners to join her in walking in the Autumn air and sharing what they see.  I'm linking up with her today - please click over and enjoy the Autumn beauty.

Wordless Wednesday - Late August Morning

Agastache Heatwave

Agastache Heatwave, Tri-color Sedum, Hot lips Salvia

"It no sooner comes than it is gone."

"I feel a little fluttered in my thoughts, as if I might be too late. 

Each season is but an infinitesimal point. It no sooner comes than it is gone." 

- Henry David Thoreau, Journal, June 6, 1857

Spring in the garden has overwhelmed me this year. It's almost as though it's been happening on fast forward, as in a speeded up time-lapse video.  The New Dawn rose was a riot of blooms and suddenly most of those petals are on the ground.  The amaryllis buds appeared overnight - multiples of them - and just as quickly all but two have bloomed and faded.  The clematis vine grew to cover the trellis with blooms and yet now the vine is bare.  The azaleas are covered in faded dried blooms, and the irises are spent.  I forgot to mark these misfit purple and white irises that need to be moved and now have no idea which they were (though maybe this photo will help).

And such is life, isn't it?  Sometimes the moments are crammed so full that we just can't soak it all in the way we'd like - and then those moments are past.  We want to freeze time - and we try to do just that with our photographs.
In the midst of this Spring rush I was given a gift - a sunny morning just after a soft rain had fallen when I had a few minutes without a task list or a place to be.  The angle of the light, the birds, the blooms, the fragrance in my garden - the combination of all of those elements made it feel as though I'd stepped into another world - a fairyland almost.   Time slowed for those few minutes, and the raindrops made everything seem fresh and new.

Though the height of Spring has passed, the void left by those faded blooms is quickly being filled by summer favorites.  Daylily and hydrangea blooms began appearing this week, and already the Sunburst gaillardia is in full bloom. 

The hummingbirds seem to be here to stay and the hot lips salvia is providing them with plenty of nectar.

Verbena on a stick will continue reaching for the sky.  Lantana and zinnia blooms will attract the butterflies and the one bloom on the Creme Brulee Coreopsis will turn into many.  The pastel shades of Spring will be replaced by the hot colors of summer.  And life will slow down a little. . . .I hope.

"Hummingbird don't fly away"

The weather report makes me thirsty - hot and dry through the week and into the weekend - after many days of similar conditions.  The garden is longing for a long slow soaking rain, and so am I.   But I'm amazed at how well most of the plants have held up this summer.   Looking out from the deck in the late afternoon everything looks fairly green and healthy.

Up on the deck, in a container, I found this bright bloom on the dahlia.

I planted these in the spring from one of those kits with the container, soil, and tubers that I found on clearance at Lowe's.  All summer long I've watered and watched the foliage grow - but no buds until last week.  This is the first bloom to appear and it was worth waiting for.  You can see that the foliage was appetizing to some kind of chewing pest.
Also up on the deck, the gerbera daisy has been sending up multiple blooms - while the plant in the ground has hardly bloomed at all.  I love the shades of pink in this one.

The New England aster, purchased at the Master Gardeners' plant sale in the spring began blooming this week.

The highlight of my afternoon in the garden wasn't a bloom, though, it was the hummingbird enjoying the hot lips salvia.

Hummingbird don't fly away, fly away. Hummingbird don't fly away, fly away.

The sweetness of your nectar has drawn me like a fly.

I just love you, love you, love you. I don't even know the reason why. Now,

Hummingbird don't fly away, fly away. Hummingbird don't fly away, fly away.

from Hummingbird by Seals and Croft