In mid-August, you start to realize fall is coming, at least here in upstate New York.
You hear crickets chirp.
You see the daylight part of the day growing shorter and shorter.
You realize the stores are holding back to school sales. (How nice that I don't have to worry about those anymore).
Because of drought, some trees are already starting to show fall color due to being under stress.
The end is coming.
But the heat is still on, and my flowers are still blooming.
It isn't just flowers. It's the foliage plants.
Soon, all that will be left are the pansies. And even they will be a memory by November.
But for now, I will hold off fall, at least in my mind, for as long as I can.
This part of August has become a sad time for me. This week contains the anniversary of the deaths of several relatives. Today is the anniversary of a the death of a beloved aunt, an aunt who was so proud of her garden.
I turn to my living flowers, at least for now, for solace, and lose myself in memories.