Reading as many blogs as I do has the subtle effect of making me want to bring my neighborhood in line with the music that autumn plays in most other places. For example, I found a November poem that is all about the violent wind, when we usually have to wait a month or two later for that sort of thing. It didn’t fit with my reality.
It’s definitely Fall here, but our notes sing a quieter background harmony, linking us more obviously to summer. Even the window art at the grocery store is mostly sunflowers to go with the pumpkins and turkeys.
All of the pictures from my garden were taken on this sixth day of November. A strawberry is ripe, as “ripe” as ornamentals get, but is decorated by a few of the telltale fallish pine needles that are slowly covering everything in that part of the yard.
The sign for the orange cherry tomato is hiding deep under the exploding foliage, and I can’t remember if it is a Sungold or a Sunsugar, but the fruit is still ripening, and nearly as sweetly as a month ago.
Mr. Glad stopped us on the way to Vespers last week to take this picture of clouds in a blue sky. Not rain clouds, sad to say. The grass has that November look, from having dried up and then been rained on a little, not enough to create any new green color. Our autumn is drier than usual, which is a hard kind of gentleness.
The furnace has been turned on, which means that we keep the windows closed, though with the days mild, and the air so fresh and soothing, I wish we could have them open. I just have to go fully out of doors if I want to get into the natural atmosphere.
It’s still not really cold enough to have a wood fire, and we haven’t had a frost yet, as you can tell from the tomatoes.
These are the hens and chicks near the new planting bed out front. I set out all the new ground-cover starts this week, and some of the thyme is blooming still.
October is the month to plant peas of any sort, and this year I bought sweet pea (those are the flowers) and snow pea seeds, but I never got around to actually putting them in the ground, which means that the failed flowering fennel and the nasturtiums are free to paint an impressionistic scene. The background music is called “Flowery Fall.”
I have to plant sweet peas this year!!! I forget every single year.
I love all of your photos! It looks like the kind of fall I like best. đŸ™‚
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eyes and hearts for beauty….lovely.
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How lovely! Yes, your cool weather will come soon, I bet. We had a beautiful day today! The grands were running around in the back yard without coats! I picked my purple sweet peas. They’ve been such late bloomers and SO resilient. We’ve already had a bit of frost. I moved our bed back under the window and I’m hoping the moon will shine on us tonight.
Blessings to you, sweet sister.
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I need to know more about those sweet peas! Did you plant them in the summer? I wonder, if I planted some in August if they would start blooming in September? Or maybe July…. Has anyone else experience with sweet peas blooming in November?
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We have a very gentle fall too, and I love it. It’s a Southern autumn, and is so mild, so perfect — i love it.
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Your flowery fall is beautiful. Fall is more gentle here, too, and I’ve picked a few late raspberries and oh, so sweet strawberries in the past week. But this afternoon the wind is howling around the corners of the house and leaves scurry along the streets as if to get home before the rains begin.
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lovely pictures! that last one is my favourite. God keep you and Mr. Glad in this season! love and prayers! (and thanks for recent blog comments, they mean so much!)
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Your fall looks beautiful. We’ve had an unusually long fall. Only one hard frost and then some rains. By Sunday or Monday we are expecting snow and very cold. I’ve been enjoying November chores.
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I love your flowery fall, too. That last picture…I could stare at that for a good long time. Simply beautiful. I wish you many more fall flowers.
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We have had so many flowers still blooming, it’s made for a lovely October. Frosts were light enough that the tender annuals lasted until this week! Sleet this evening, though, so here comes winter.
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