Late August Morning

The mornings start green-golden, as we walk Faerygirl down the driveway to meet the bus. Heavy in the lazy fog drifts the scent of crushed walnuts. Sometimes, there is a hint of our musky skunk neighbor. Every day, there is more yellow at the edges of the forest, a few more leaves on the ground. The song is different, too, no longer the wild birdsong of spring. This music consists of soft cricket chirping, the gurgling cackle of a disturbed screech owl, the sharp keen of hunting hawks, and occasional cawing from angry crows. As the golden sunrise mist dissipates, a September-blue sky reveals itself and the cicadas begin their buzzing. Squirrelboy expresses disgruntlement with the burrs that stick everywhere - clothes, cats, blankets, soft toys: anything that comes in contact with the burrs that come in with us or the cats. Berries begin ripening; I see the deep blue-purple of Solomon's seal and the red of false Solomon's-seal. I anticipate a pawpaw harvest in the next week or so.

Current Dispatch

The lavender and rosemary in the house seem happy. New growth greens up, and I can't wait until the days are warm enough to take them out and play. Charmer, a male cat who adopted us, keeps coming home with wounds. He fights and gets the worst of it, I'm afraid. So I'm pulling out the hydrogen peroxide and kitty antibiotics again. I've also just begun my herbalist journey, and my excitement is tempered with the knowledge that I'll be working on this for a very long time. No, that's not true...the knowledge that I'll be working on this for a very long time is exciting, too. This week...boneset and gentian, I believe. And there's lots of reading. And I have to write a paper. Yippee! I am ridiculously happy with the higher angle of the sun, an earlier sunrise, green things edging their way towards strength, a new venture, and health in the family.