Sweetgum tree leaf blew in from somewhere
Red oak leaf from yellow to brown
Sometimes pinkish red Rusty Blackhaw Viburnum leaf
Fothergilla gardenii leaves turning from yellow to a beautiful rusty orange
Joe Pye Weed turning yellow then brown in autumn
The golden years began with a pinched hip nerve that brought on an early retirement. Knowing the immense pleasure of pure pain, the foggy rush of morphine lowering blood pressure below two hundred, and the onslaught of oxycodone prescriptions and other mind whirling garbage...well, let's just move on to the better stuff that was ahead.
Physical therapy made a dent in my predicament, but steroid shots for a knotted up shoulder muscle that created havoc with my neck muscles that had an ongoing battle with the masseuse to never lose the war, became a routine. The panic attack that landed me back into the emergency room, signaled it was past time to delve into the workings of a mind that was so much at odds with itself.
My short summation on mental therapy is that it works, but not the way I envisioned it would. I am what I choose to be. I am the master of how my life evolves. It's pretty simple. I've made a few good choices, and I've made an unsurmountable number of bad choices...my bad. I learn and move on, always living in present time, not past regrets or future worries time.
A year of therapy to learn how to create something better, then a half year of therapy to learn how to live with the fact that what doesn't want to change will never change, no matter how much I wish it did. Acceptance is the most difficult pill I have ever had to wash down my throat with an ocean of water.
I look at the world around me, and hope isn't even a word in my vocabulary; but moments change moment by moment, days change day by day, weeks change week by week, months change month by month...and on and on and on. To know that which I have no control over is to know that which I can change. Worry isn't an option. So, while the world seems to be imploding all around me, I am okay.
Gossamer Mushroom in the Dandelion Patch
Done in by one nibble two many.
Here we go again...thought this was a wasp when it landed for a photoshoot, but no...it's a hover fly.
Summersweet turning to yellow
Honeybee on Goulimyi Autumn Crocus
American Dogwood, then Fothergilla gardenii in the background
I find it impossible to photograph this area to a true depiction of its essence.
It's the heart of the wildflower garden.
The dogwood tree has more branches than would appear,
and the area has a vibrant life full of birds, insects, and mammals.
Husband cut down a stray tree seedling before discovering it had an occupant.
This adorable little green tree frog was so kind to humor me as I took photos.
We placed his seedling perch back into the garden
before he hopped off and disappeared.
Above is the red of dogwood leaves on a cloudy day.
As the sun behind the cloud cover approached the horizon,
the leaves began to take on a glow of fire
while the sunset was a typical grey blue to gray to grayer. Go figure.
Garden Shed ~ Painted two coats of primer and calling it quits for this year. I'll tackle the finishing paint job next year, maybe. The workers did a halfway lousy job building this project so we halted the tail end of the job, and after a bit of negotiating, we were refunded a big chunk of the cost. Right now we're just trying to get it seaworthy for winter :(
Time for a rest
Scrapbook Journal Project stored neatly in desk drawer for the last three years.
I'm starting this project...maybe,
right after moving all the desktop junk to the kitchen table :)
Autumn is the baring of branches as the clusters of colorful and sometimes rather drab leaves drop with a light muffled tat tat tat as they hit obstacles on their decent to layer upon layers of family and friends already on the ground. Its nature's community blanket for the oncoming cold, and composted food for the eventual returning of warmth. It's a home for a barrage of insects that sustain the continuation of a healthy garden.
My garden leaves stay where they fall, but the patio and deck leaves are chopped
up and mixed into the top layer of soil in the raised beds. Whole leaves are piled into the planters as a blanket of mulch, and the left over whole leaves rest in bags in the garden shed to replenish that which blows away in the coming months, as surrounding mowed grass yards offer no wind protection in the onslaught of winter.
I walked through my gardens this morning as I always do at the beginning of my day. It's my spiritual refuge from the noise of news and opinions and hate. I could stay there forever, but my life has more facets than that, that pull me in other directions throughout my day and evening. It's my go to when I need calming, even if only viewed through a curtain rimmed window.
I've been calling it that flirtatious essence of autumn, that lingering whiff of scent that comes and goes when I am near the arbor and rain garden. A sweet musty spicy earthy aroma that I cannot fathom where it originates. It keeps drawing me back to inhale more of that pleasurable intoxication that comes only this time of year.
Yesterday I was serenaded by an amorous grey squirrel on a high branch of the white ash tree, but today I was privileged to watch two grey squirrels on a mission to annihilate each other in what I think was a territorial dispute. I hope it wasn't a love match made in the bowels of hell. Anyway...high 70's this Sunday day, and it's a great time to relax outdoors, and think of this blog at a later date. Be safe and enjoy life.