On the Eve of the Last Day of September

 

This photo of the Rose of Sharon bush that was here when we bought our retirement home was taken in 2010.

It was such a gorgeous bush, unfortunately the severe winter of 2014 killed it.

So I was happy when some plants sprouted and let them grow, hoping they would survive and eventually bloom.

Which the largest of the sprouts did, but I was a little sad that the new bush had reverted to a different color. Instead of pink blossoms it has white blossoms with a burgundy center.

But each year it has grown and had more and more blooms on it.

I had decided since it was doing so well that I would dig out the smaller bush that I had also let grow.

Until this morning - when I saw this bloom on it. I am so happy to see the pink blossoms again.

So now I guess I will have two Rose of Sharon bushes. It will probably change my configuration of plants in this corner, but I will adapt. 

I might consider trying to move this one if I was sure it would survive a move.

Here we are on the eve of the last day of September 2021 and I haven't shared a poem this month. I feel as though I have used all my favorite September poems in past posts over the years but I did find a new one with a stanza that I like.

It is from a longer poem by Theodore Roethke (1908-1963) titled The Far Field.

"I have come to a still, but not a deep center,

A point outside the glittering current;

My eyes stare at the bottom of a river,

At the irregular stones, iridescent sandgrains,

My mind moves in more than one place,

In a country half-land, half-water.

I am renewed by death, thought of my death,

The dry scent of a dying garden in September,

The wind fanning the ash of a low fire.

What I love is near at hand,

Always, in earth and air."

It is something of a mystery how quickly a whole month can pass. Three fourths of this year gone already. But now comes the golden days of October with thirty one Autumn days in nature to enjoy. They will pass briskly, too, I know. 🍂