Venus shimmers above the eastern horizon... high over Walnut Hill, as dawn stretches and yawns merging with the near gone darkness of night last. The waning, shining silk, milk moon slowly sails higher still, directly up from my roof... it casts onto the studio loft floor... a few last minute light beams, before being washed away by day. A brand new beginning... no wrinkles yet... fresh and crisp, like a newly laundered dress. River mist rises, so too the birds stir and sing a note or two, to let each other know they made it through the night, or might it be... they just enjoy beginning their day that way. Dawn now blinks and pink becomes the hue of sky, as dark gray wisps of clouds float by. There is a phoebe, dipping tail and calling phoe-- be... phoe--be, though I cannot see it I know its habit... so few songs or calls are heard this time of year ... at least here this August. Little bats are scurrying to their roost gathering a few more flying bites of breakfast on the way. There is a steady drip drip, from the metal roof onto leaves, just before the open door. The refrigerator hums then rests... but no more... no other sounds but these... a Veery near... Catbird whine... wings fluttering by... towards red Viburnum berries ... bees are up so early too going in and out of Himalayan Balsam just ten feet away self sown, before the lilac and screen. Light is everywhere now throwing shadows between thick tree canopies across the way a thickly forested hillside. Here a few glimpses into this garden on the wane... these images taken days ago. The daylilies days are numbered, while second roses bloom and hydrangea blue unfolds new florets... something is always happening only more subtle now in mid August.
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Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Waning Garden Waning Moon New Dawn Day
Venus shimmers above the eastern horizon... high over Walnut Hill, as dawn stretches and yawns merging with the near gone darkness of night last. The waning, shining silk, milk moon slowly sails higher still, directly up from my roof... it casts onto the studio loft floor... a few last minute light beams, before being washed away by day. A brand new beginning... no wrinkles yet... fresh and crisp, like a newly laundered dress. River mist rises, so too the birds stir and sing a note or two, to let each other know they made it through the night, or might it be... they just enjoy beginning their day that way. Dawn now blinks and pink becomes the hue of sky, as dark gray wisps of clouds float by. There is a phoebe, dipping tail and calling phoe-- be... phoe--be, though I cannot see it I know its habit... so few songs or calls are heard this time of year ... at least here this August. Little bats are scurrying to their roost gathering a few more flying bites of breakfast on the way. There is a steady drip drip, from the metal roof onto leaves, just before the open door. The refrigerator hums then rests... but no more... no other sounds but these... a Veery near... Catbird whine... wings fluttering by... towards red Viburnum berries ... bees are up so early too going in and out of Himalayan Balsam just ten feet away self sown, before the lilac and screen. Light is everywhere now throwing shadows between thick tree canopies across the way a thickly forested hillside. Here a few glimpses into this garden on the wane... these images taken days ago. The daylilies days are numbered, while second roses bloom and hydrangea blue unfolds new florets... something is always happening only more subtle now in mid August.