September Blessings

September and October are my favorite months. The 'Heavenly Blue' morning glories claim their glory. The basil thrives; the bumblebees visit every tiny blossom. On the porch, the Argiope spiders spin their doilies of lace. The loons move from the inland lakes and ponds and take up life in John's Bay. During the night, I wake to their haunting calls. In the morning, we watch as the male and female, never far apart, dive for fish and nuzzle into the sea, eyes just above the water line. 

The hummingbirds left early this year. Normally they leave mid-September, but by the 2nd of September, the group of 4 who fought over the feeder had already left. I still keep the feeder filled with fresh sugar water (4 parts water to one part sugar) to help those hummers migrating south. First they're lured to the porch by the brilliant blooms of morning glories, cypress vines, and Verbena bonariensis. Once they're near they realize that a hummingbird feeder awaits.

This is half of my pitiful, yet incredibly tasty "crop" (I use that word loosely) of tomatoes.

The feeders are a blur of wings, chattering, comings and goings of visitors and migrants.

The goldfinches give me so much joy–their plaintive callings, their lilting songs, the way the young beg, ruffle their feathers, and beg their parents for food. They'll probably leave us this week, and I will so miss them. I wish them safe passage south.

The chickadees are always here. Their eastern call of "feeeeed me, feeeeed, me" and their chittering conversations are a comfort to me. 

Oops, well, I'm not a good photographer, but this profile is of the red-breasted nuthatch. I love the nuthatches and the way they travel down the tree branches and search the bark for insects. Their "yank, yank, yank" call is unmistakable. Last week one of the nuthatches would land on the feeder, extract a black oil sunflower seed, then fly to the porch rockers. I watched as he secreted sunflower seeds in the loops of the woven seats and in the cracks of an old basket. He would no sooner tuck away the seeds than the red squirrel would hop onto the chair and steal them.

Jeff's morning chore.

The mourning dove is grateful.

You can barely see the vociferous and demanding family of two adult crows and three babies who keep us in laughter. I talk to them and call them, and they all fly to the red oak, ride the branches, and set up the loudest cacophony. I talk to them; they answer. They love the treats I carry in my pockets. I think they're spoiled.

Another September blessing is my dear pal Lynn Karlin, one of the best photographers I know.  Lynn did the books Maine Farm, Gardens Maine Style, and Gardens Maine Style Act ll. They're gorgeous books. This shot was taken in Lynn's tiny (and honest) kitchen in her camp "Three Bears." The camp was built in about 1906 and sits on the edge of a large, quiet, and magical pond.

This is the dock. Can you see the big wheels?? Lynn and Barry roll it out of the water at the end of the season.

Where we shared a fabulous and simple supper of fresh Maine fare.

My favorite place to sit when I am inside Lynn's cabin.

The apples are ripe at Clark Cove Farm. I printed out the apple crisp recipe from one of my favorite blogs, Mennonite Girls Can Cook, and used it twice in the past week. I ran out of oats for this one and topped the crisp with the walnuts, etc., but in place of oats, I used ginger snaps. Just crushed them with a rolling pin and added them to the nut, flour, brown sugar mixture. This was fabulous and enjoyed by all.

Last night some friends from Los Osos, California, came for dinner. Mother Nature decided to put on a show for us. What could be a better September blessing? 

Thanks for your visits and wonderful e-mails. I loved learning about the student from Tokyo who took my books home with him. I loved seeing photos of your gardens and photos of children who once attended my faerie festivals and are now all grown up and gorgeous. 

Please stop by my newest blog posting at Lowe's Garden Grow Along. It is titled "Can Plants be Happy." One of the photos is of my ever busy potting bench. The two wash tubs beside my bench were purchased at an antique shop in Illinois. Nothing is ever easy. Jeff had to take it all apart to fit it into our already crammed car. When he reassembled it in California, he ran water to both sides of the tubs so I can pot plants, soak them, and work on them with water handy. 

Sending love from Maine,

Sharon

P.S. Jeff and I finished Comfort Found Literary Lodging at 11:15 the night before our first guests checked in. We promise to post photos, but I left my camera at a friend's house, and it is being mailed back to me today.  It was a true labor of love, but phew, what happened to summer?????

Dancing In the Rain (ADDENDUM BELOW)

Thought for the day

"The man who does not know nature, who does not walk under the leaves as his own roof, is partial and wounded."

Winter Hours

by

Mary Oliver

From my perch in the studio, I look out onto the tiny potager where rain is steadily falling. Borders of alpine strawberries, scraggly a month ago, are now fulsome with new leaves and their first white flowers. No early morning nightgown stroll in the garden for me today, just a hasty run to the hummingbird feeder, back to the kitchen to scrub and fill it, and back to hang it in place. Two Anna's hummers awaited, and they weren't about to share with each other. Their clashing needle-bills look deadly, but I've never seen one hurt another.

Took this photo through my bedroom window (sorry about the screen)

I had to stop midstream and run back out to the goldfinch feeder where a few dozen American and Lesser goldfinches were setting up a hue and cry which translated to "more nyjer seeds!" and there was no mention of "PLEASE" in their conversation. I filled the tube feeder to the top, dodged the worst of the off-the-roof waterfalls, and hung it back on its hook under the arbor. I love whistling to these little visitors, who faithfully call back to me as they leave their perches on the leafless Brown turkey fig and flock to the swaying feeder.

I am so happy to have this rain soaking everything. I imagine the tiny seeds swelling below me, slowly opening, then poking their first tentative leaves into the light. In anticipation of the recent storms, I broadcast a pound of California wildflower seeds along the pathway leading to our doorway. What could be a better welcome mat for friends? The first to emerge were the dime-sized silver-blue doilies of native poppies. Next came the pinked leaves of baby-blue-eyes, clarkia, and a host of younglings, small as pins and impossible to identify for another week or so. I will watch their progress daily, but for now, I am just grateful for the blessing of rains.

The pathway to my front door. Wildflower seeds are sprouting along the way. My herb and potting shed is on the left

Terrace where I do my potting

My potting bench and supplies-to the right are my wash-tubs, which we discovered in Illinois on our trip east to Maine. I fill the right side with potting soil.

P.S. My Grandmother used to sing this little song to me on rainy days when we went outdoors to search the sidewalks for worms.

When fishes set umbrellas up

and when the raindrops come,

Lizards will want parasols

To shade them from the sun.
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Okay, I'm Sharon's biggest fan and proud husband. Sharon wouldn't post this, but I will.

We just received notice that Sharon's newest book Toad Cottages & Shooting Stars received an iParenting.com Media Award for 2010.


iParenting.com is part of Disney Online’s network of family-focused web sites devoted to the entire family lifecycle. iParenting Media Awards is committed to helping businesses by promoting winning titles to consumers, retailers, the media and to the editors of Disney Online properties including Disney Family.com, FamilyFun.com, Kaboose.com, BabyZone.com, PregnancyToday.com and BabiesToday.com.

Guess who's buying whom dinner tonight?

Make Me a Promise??

I worked out in the garden this morning and felt so contented. All around me (and believe me, I don't live in the country this time of year) birds chittered, whistled, and called.

A sweet hermit thrush (one of my favorite birds) landed on the birdbath that once belonged to my Nonie Clarke (my mom's mother). The thrush held a brilliant red cotoneaster berry in his bill, and he gobbled it down and took a sip of water. A robin walked across our postage-stamp lawn, head cocked toward the ground and chuckling like a madman. Nearby, where the toyon hangs over my terrace, about 30 cedar waxwings keened and whistled as they gorged themselves on berries.

Paradise, that's how I felt. I am in Paradise. Then I stopped to consider what was happening around me. Most often, before looking up, I KNEW which birds were stopping for a visit. Through years of quiet observation, I've learned dozens of bird calls, but that is a drop-in-the-bucket compared to hard core birders.

To help Grannys and other child lovers learn about bird calls, I did a spread in my new book Toad Cottages & Shooting Stars and entitled it "BIRD WORDS." You'll get the drift when you look closely at the illustrations. I've also included many other hints to help you make the birds welcome in your garden and in your life.

So will you make me a promise? No matter where you live, no matter the season or the time of the day or night, stop, listen, and enjoy every second with the birds.