Home fires

I wish you were home for your birthday and we could sit on the porch in the warmth of the afternoon. And share a peanut butter milkshake from Cookout. And talk about how awfully the dog behaves.

I miss you while you are away.

Autumn color

Annuals continue to flower with enthusiasm in mid-October. Salvia farinacea, pentas and impatiens make a hot combination along the stone path to the front door.

Perennials are still coming into bloom. Pineapple sage comes back every year. Tall and wide and bright red, it is an awesome sight near the birdhouse sculpture.

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Shrubs offer colorful berries to birds during fall migration. Viburnum nudem is sometimes called Possum haw. Its fruit is pink and blue in the same cluster.

Trees are beginning to turn. This dogwood planted itself in a dry spot near the front of the house and looks happiest in fall.

Even fungi show their colors. These orange beauties are the size of dinner plates. They were discovered near an old stump beside the buttonbush.

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Oak

The oak overstory in our garden is 16 red and white and perhaps black oaks. Years ago a woodcutter identified each one, but that was before it mattered to me and I no longer remember the details.

In the late 1970's we bought our first home in a quiet shady neighborhood in Columbus, Ohio. The soil was deep and black and rich, and all manner of flora grew easily there. On a street near our home was a long and low ranch house, sided in gray wood. In front of the house stood a grand white oak, perhaps 100 feet tall, one massive trunk weathered to a light gray, anchored solidly in the front yard, extending its limbs the full length of the house, 70 feet or more. It was an inspiring gift from nature, probably assisted by an arborist.

I often thought I would buy that house (oak) if it came up for sale, but by the time I saw the realtor's sign in the yard, we were already moving to North Carolina.

Fifteen years later, we were passing through Ohio and drove to our old neighborhood in Columbus. On the side street, the gray house was still there, but the oak was long gone, perhaps lost to lightening or lawn lust. The ranch was now an ordinary gray house, and the street was an ordinary midwestern street. Lawn after lawn, a sea of kelly green grass.

Gentle spirit

This post is dedicated to Betty R., who lost her son a year ago.

I am carrying her heart in my heart today.

This morning, this baby hare sat quietly for a long moment beneath the lantana. When she saw the camera, she ran into the underbrush.

This Painted Lady butterfly is often seen in autumn. Today she nectars on the lantana while I photograph the baby hare.

A regular visitor, this stout toad sits silently on a damp spot behind a flowerpot and waits for an unsuspecting insect.

I am remembering his gentle spirit today.

And you are in my thoughts and prayers.