Friday, August 23, 2019


Movement beyond the window, across the lane, caught my eye.
I watched as tree branches tossed in a sudden wind, letting go of leaves that yellowed and curled in the long weeks of drought. 
I stepped out to the covered back porch, camera in hand, watched as a flurry of leaves sailed through the air, somersaulting, then scudding along the gravel, drifting onto the grass. 

A patter of rain pinged, staccato, on the metal roof,  increasing, fading, renewing.
From the dry ground and tired grass a stale dusty smell arose.
It was soon over--a 10 minute rain, leaving grass and plants barely dampened.
Slatey clouds moved, shredding, off to the west.

I walked into the lane, noting the crispness of the fallen leaves.

The burst of rain had done nothing to cool the humid air, although the ground along the treeline had a sudden look of early autumn.

Tatttered leaves lay like broken china. 

The drift of suddenly fallen leaves put me in mind of school days in Vermont, shoving me back in time. 
The shower is over, seemingly yet another rain that has 'gone around.

I trudge back inside, settle myself at the table facing the deep windows, switch on my sewing machine.  Moments later, another burst of rain.  The cats who went out with me to watch the swirling leaves, appear at the window, mouths opening in silent meows. When I let them in, they huddle damply on chairs and sofa.
Early in the evening, grey clouds roll up in the east; thunder rumbles.

Robert-the-cat who is afraid of thunderstorms has slipped outside again.
I stand on the front deck, calling him. I search for him in the barn while rain drums on the roof, look for him under the wicker loveseat on the back porch.

The rain is settling in, not a downpour, but the steady fall of moisture so badly needed.
Pulling on a flannel shirt I crunch down the lane toward the shed.
Thunder booms as I step inside, calling, coaxing.
Robert creeps from behind a bin, belly low to the floor.
He is shaking, pathetic.
Robert doesn't like to be picked up or carried, but when I scoop him up he foregoes his usual squirming protest. Clutching him securely against my flannel wrapped front I trudge back through the storm which is growing  in noise and wet.

Mornings have been dense with white fog.

All day the clouds move swiftly, the sky changes from pale grey to blue--from patchy blue to black as fast-moving storms bring more rain.

The veg garden has languished in the heat and drought, too far gone to recover.
I have lost transplants too fragile to flourish in this dry season.
Tonight the earth smells fresh, the air is cool.
We will have more warm days, but summer has begun the transition to fall.


  1. We've had a real feeling of autumn this latter half of the month, with much cooler temperatures and daily rain :( Now we have a short few days of hot temps predicted so must make the most of it. Sorry to hear that some of your treasured transplanted didn't make it.

    1. Jennie; The rewards and frustrations of gardening don't always balance, do they? We look forward to summer and then spend weeks in battle with the weather! I'm hoping for a long mellow autumn this year--last year's was cold and soggy!

  2. I love the way you express your thoughts, you have a gift with words. Thanks for sharing. I really loved how Robert let you pick him up, transporting him from barn to home while the storm was starting. Bless his little heart and God bless yours also.

    Have a lovely weekend ~ FlowerLady

    1. Rainey; I"m not sure why I feel compelled to write my thoughts. Before blogging I kept a notebook journal and wrote long letters. Robert is my husband's cat--very indulged by him, but he tolerates me if rescue is needed.

  3. You have a wonderful gift of putting into words the events of your day. It lets me be a part of the wind, rain, the falling leaves, and the frightened cat. Our dogs are terrified of thunder, but see no danger in chasing cars.

    1. lil red hen; From childhood I've had a running narrative in my head, always wanting to describe what is around me.
      We had a Border Collie who went berserk at the sound of thunder or fireworks--he would bolt into the nearest dark hiding place.
      I wince when a dog runs at my moving vehicle--concerned that I may hit it. That happened once--a horrible experience, as the dog had to be put down.

  4. 'A running narrative' how very descriptive. Our rain has been plentiful and we are fast creeping into Autumn. Collecting leaves is always a chore.

    1. Thelma; It seems [as I reply on Monday] that rain will be with us for a few days. Not a drenching destructive force, quiet showers that can soak into the ground.
      I seldom rake fallen leaves, unless I'm wanting them for garden mulch. Living in the country we don't need to be overly tidy about a 'lawn.' Jim keeps a considerable expanse of grass cut and fallen leaves are chewed up and flung out in bits by the big mower.

  5. Oh, please send the rain over here, we are sweltering and both of us hate it. My lot do not like storms but then they run when they hear a bin being moved out in the street. lol

    1. Briony; We had so many weeks without rain that it is now something of a novelty! September here usually brings hot days, tempered by cooler mornings and evenings. I don't do well in extremes of temperature--never have.
      Willis, the barn cat who lives outdoors, is scared of nothing--the rest of the cats can be quite skittery.