Back to School

I'm holding on to summer as hard as I can, but even I know that nothing gold or green can stay.  My flower beds are blowzy with tangled blooms of russian sage, purple coneflowers, verbena, oregano, thyme and basil gone to seed (but blossoming beautifully in the process) and three tomato plants that arrived from some distant garden, all competing for space.  The lovage has once again decided that it needs the entire garden to itself  and is threatening its neighbors with determined offshoots.  The petunias and impatience are all but buried in the resulting mess.  The beds are alive with all manner of bees, birds, butterflies, and moths conducting their business and ensuring the success of future blooms.  

The autumn bloomers haven't come into the picture yet, but they are out there warming up.  The white dwarf chrysanthemums--always a bit precocious--have started to bloom, but they remind me of the type of person who looked forward to back-to-school efforts.  It's just too early to think about school or chrysanthemums.  They should be quiet for now.  The sedum is still gathering its strength, the golden delicious sage doesn't even have buds yet, and the Japanese maples all still have their summer look.

But last night we had a group of friends over for dinner, and we sat outside until late in the evening.  It was a lovely night, and the crickets and cicadas were singing loudly.  That sound, pronounced one man well-past school age, was the sound of back to school.  Once you hear that sound, it's time to shop for sweaters and notebooks, time to look at schedules and re-establish routines.  "Yes," most people at the table nodded in agreement.  "Summer is over" they all agreed.

So today we made plans to spend next week at the beach.  My son comes home from camp in the middle of this week, so we'll all go as a family.   Fall can be put off for another week.