Late July days, and the bittersweet stirrings of late summer and the harvest season...
How can one describe these late summer sunrises? The skies were a fetching shade of violet this morning, crinkly rose and gold along the edges, sweeps of cloud painted in broad strokes. Venus and Jupiter were high in the east, Orion's pulsating blue supergiant Rigel dancing just above the horizon. Its appearance in the hours before daybreak is a sure sign we are on our way toward autumn.
Spencer and I were up and about early and went out into the garden in the relative coolness to greet what will be another blisteringly hot day. I sipped my tea thoughtfully, and my companion looked up and crooned a song to the rising sun, just as his big sister Cassie used to do on such mornings. Thousands of geese were winging up from their rest on the river and out into the cornfields - vast waves of joyous honking song as they flew overhead and off for the first meal of the day.
My Abraham Darby rose puts on a rare display at the end of July, and this morning, a single rose was blooming like a little pink moon in the sleeping garden, its colors a perfect match with the clouds. How sweet it is.