I'll Sing You This October Song

Okay--it isn't October for two more days, but this is what it feels like: milky chill in the evening, oak leaves barely bronzed here and there, and roses cast one last smattering of blooms before retreating into drabby deadlookingness for the next six months. Thanks for everything, guys; I'll miss you. Stan secures the perimeter.

The Garden in September

To appreciate the fall garden--at least, to appreciate this fall garden, you've got to have Zen----it's wabi-sabi to the -nth degree--the ineffable beauty of imperfection: forgotten empty seedling pots, now home to spiders too menacing-looking to evict, fallen fruit, tarnished blossoms, broken stems....The perennial sunflower stars right now, as you can see, with big brilliant coarse flowers that draw your eye from 'way down the street. I love the way he--if flowers can be gendered, this one is unmistakably a guy--leans across the fence, like a giant stretching.
We are crushing the last of the basil into pesto and freezing it in ice cube trays; the small food processer that Drew's sister passed on to us last year is working its little blades off now. In these pictures you see, besides the brobdignagian helianthus:

red morning glories and improbably tall marigolds tangled in the corpses of tomato vines.

raggedy but still attractive (to butterflies and to me) butterfly bush

a seedling rose of Sharon that emerged this summer spindly and blinking from beneath a cedar tree

guardian lion and the sickly, temperamental but really gorgeous Garden of Eden-y-looking tiny crabapple tree that Drew likes to threaten to chop down because it is such a mess several times over (fallen blossoms, then fallen fruit and eternally falling bird droppings!).

a sweet little seedling rose that had to wait a long time to get planted. Got it in the dirt today. It's a hybrid musk rose of some sort.

This is it, guys--the end of the 2006 garden. The next batch of photos will be a post mortem.

Well, Great Souls are SUPPOSED to Languish in Garrets, Aren't They?

This is my 4th-5th grade classroom in the attic of the Milk Barn: until a couple of weeks ago, it was a curriculum library and auxiliary teaching chamber. Now it is mine, mua-ha-ha-ha! Note my groovy little desk area (with requisite cookie jar!). Walls are sloped, so everything falls off the bulletin boards unless anchored twelve times over. Coats and bookbags hang in the precipitous tiny stairway, and the room is baking hot if the inside door is closed, and polar if the door is left open, so we alternate. I really do enjoy this room; it's got a lot of tattered charm and will get better (more charming and undoubtedly more tattered). You can't see the little reading area near the outside door (which opens up onto catwalk overlooking the playground): it has a wicker chair and...well...a wicker chair is about it right now, but that too will improve. Nothing deficient in here that money can't fix. Except size: when there are ten children in here, and two teachers, it is intimate to the point of claustrophobia.

"...the maid is not dead, but sleepeth."

I haven't forgotten about my blog, but am wrapping up summer teaching while simultaneously preparing for fall teaching and have been very, very, very....tired at night. Fall updates as soon as I wake up.

Can't Bear to Look at the Garden Right Now....

It's like watching a child struggle through a bad case of poison ivy--between the heat and the beetles, everything except the tomato plants is kinda ugly, and I love the whole too much to put it on display when its not shining, SO--
A few distractions;
1. Self portraiture
2. Stan poses in Powerful mode
3. At home with paintings, paint-ED (cabinet) and fine antique cat.
4. In the upstairs window of the RDS Milk Barn, plant cuttings make a curtain.

The Hour of Sunflower--and Tomatoes, Tomatoes, Tomatoes

The Garden a little sick with steam heat and beetles: here are sunflowers living up to their name and the few other flowery things; the beans and cucumbers nibbled lacey but still giving like they was Mother Theresa, for Christ's sake. We begin to be inundated with cherry tomatoes, including a stubborn vine or two in the compost pit. I am making some sauce to freeze; the resolution was "No waste this year." We shall see.

The Garden in July

Steamy and jungly. Lots of beetles. Two baby preying mantis (mantii?) that Drew caught and transported.

Home Again

Ten days and over 2,600 miles under our wheels. This last stretch has been HOT--real VA summer simmer again. We are road-weary, saddle-sore and sunburnt. Here you see the bike--and us--in all dusty beat-up glory. Stan's remodelling--he tore the doorway linoleum up in our absence, but finally consents to share the bed, just like old times...

Natural Bridge, VA

Our last stop before home--Natural Bridge, VA--beloved by Thomas Jefferson, allegedly autographed by George Washington, now relegated to Christian retreat and tourist trap Purgatory. You see: the Bridge (Highway 11--two lanes-- runs over the top of it, to give you some idea of the really impressive scale), Drew and me: the requisite "we wuz here" shot, and Geo. Washington's supposed initials--about twelve feet up the bridge wall and water running beneath it--you rock, George! Also our luxe room at the Natural Bridge Hotel--here we had the nicest room and the most overpriced (for the quality) food. And the least competent bar staff. And appealingly idiosyncratic waitstaff--our waitress a little Granny Clampett of a woman with mingy red yarn bows in her hair. In addition to the Bridge and the almost-as-big-as-the-bridge Gift Shop, there is a museum, a house of horrors, a WAX museum, for goodness sake--and miniature golf, among other delights. All for a price, of course.

In Kentucky....a Ferry Tale

In Kentucky, we found some tiny, scrabbly towns and narrow, windy and obscure roads--and one of the hardest-to-decode highway systems yet. On S.R. 700, a road barely wider than a driveway, a mysterious sign appeared: "Road Does Not Cross River." We were lost (not unusual for us in KY) and figured lost going forward would work as well as lost turning back. At the river, a surprise: a small ferry boat, secured by cables against the current, and powered by a paddle-wheel. Supposedly this is one of the oldest continuous ferry services in the US. In this series of pictures you see the ferry approaching and leaving, Drew checking directions with the ferrymen, a mural in Versailles.
We discovered later that we were, at one point, less than an hour from where Murph and Archie live. Next time!

Lemmings

Before turning south again, we joined the rest of the lemmings on the Grand Haven Pier for the sunset stroll and vigil. Views of the Pier, walkers, catwalk, lighthouse, that other structure that houses the foghorn (foghouse?), silhouetted boats, sinking sun, Mom at home on our last evening there.