Acknowledgement of Fall's Wild and Wet Debut

The first day of fall flew through floodgates flung wide...

The second day is offering a brief breather before round two...

Fall flew through floodgates flung ajar

It flailed the crinkled countryside

And wailed at every bolstered door

That just the day before stood wide

Fall’s entrance drenched earth’s sanguine bars

September’s summer embers doused

No quixotic, poetic stars

In sighs by blue-eyed skies aroused

Fall roared like an enraged tigress  

Or like a savage beast set free

It tore at nature’s tousled tress

With tireless ferocity

Fall made its entrance, wet and wild

As if somehow a mild debut

Of sun-kisses on summer’s child

Would have been far too Déjà vu

© Janet Martin

September Soul-string Tug-of-War

 Happy Half-way through September!

September is the season that tugs the hardest on soul-strings, methinks...

Summer flowers and freedoms fade...

New grades greet scholars,

New scholars greet grades

and we moms/grammas? 

Well, we just need to 

wax nostalgic 

now and then...

(What's the stump with the board nailed to it in the pic below?!!

Why, an outdoor writing desk/coffee table, of course!😊)

The annual angst 

of cutting back flower gardens

has begun...

And veggie gardens

Before....

 

After...

Beet harvest is on next week's to-do 'hopes'!

This week's hope-to-do list is full

1 Peter 1:24
For, "All flesh is like grass, and all its glory like the flowers of the field; 

the grass withers and the flowers fall,

Inspired by yesterday and today's chores

A September Song

All blooms lead to farewell

First blossom’s bright ‘hello’

Begets the tolling of a bell

That leads to letting go

Of petal-mettle drained

Of felled flower of youth

For posies lead to plumes unchained

And farewell’s timeless truth

We cannot keep for long

The song of bud to bloom

Where petals fuel farewell’s gong

And Bygone’s boundless tomb

Then savor with intent

The flavour of today

The favor of each moment lent

Sparkles and fades away

Summer shakes out its quilt

After picnics and such

Strewing behind a patchwork lilt

Of petals lost to touch

Where the crumbs in our hold

Look quite common enough

But are more valuable than gold

Because their wealth is love

September is a sea

That rolls across heart-shores

Joy and grief’s synchronicity

Embraces and implores

Where, with each cricket tweet

We feel time’s trembling knell

In laws no wishes can defeat

All blooms lead to farewell

© Janet Martin

Yesterday's harvest was the last of the jalapeños ...

From this

to this...

to this!

and tomatoes!

From this...

...to this

to the potential of 

365 homemade tomato soup lunches!

It's SO good

September is the epitome of delight and resignation💔

September sum;

Veggies + prep = yum!

Tonight's supper

Spaghetti, 

homemade sauce

roasted veg and salad

included these veggies

proving again, it's the most wonderful time of the year...

green, red and jalapeño peppers,

beets,

butternut squash,

red and white onion,

zucchini,

potatoes,

garlic,

tomatoes,

carrots,

radishes,

parsley,

celery,

romaine lettuce

😋

Soaking in September

Sometimes a sweet, leisurely soak in September's tub

is exactly what the doctor ordered (or would if we'd ask!)

Somehow summer slipped by with not quite enough

just-sit-and-soak-it-in siestas!

So I took one today after the tots left 

before tackling a bowl full of tomatoes to preserve.

Soaking in September’s sauna steeps the soul with sheer delight

Ochre summer-embers don a dialect we cannot write

But feel; stealing, reeling through us in a sonnet, bittersweet

Like the wilding winds that woo us when the world is fast asleep

Soaking in September’s beauty is the perfect getaway

Where the darling call of duty makes Prudence time’s constant prey

And we could, if we’re not careful, miss the bliss of Here and Now

Where the tautness of toil’s bridle keeps us tethered to its plow

Soaking in September’s Garden leaves little to be desired

Before autumn begs our pardon as Eden-glints are retired

Buzz of bee in bell of flower, iced mint-tea or lemonade

Garnet orb in orchard-bower, pulsing cricket-serenade

Soaking in September’s glory makes us feel at home-sweet-home

Where each treetop tells a story and each posy spills a poem

Where the pleasure of earth’s treasure that we gather gratefully

Fills fruit-cellars with its measure and hearts with pure ecstasy

Soaking in September’s splendor wakes a worship-song within

As our spirits grow more tender where summer is wearing thin

Where the gleaming goldenrod, like tapers streams through field and dell

And, where we all become neighbours in the limelight of farewell

© Janet Martin

Garnet orb in orchard-bower, 

pulsing cricket-serenade (well, kind of...

and after-work rush-hour 😐)

Dear Almost-Autumn...The Way I Fall In Love

The way a red and orange leaf caught our attention last night

as my friend and I strolled through her yard

The way each butterfly in flight is a sun-catcher

The way fading flowers begin to number summer days

The way sedums begin to blush...

The way September steals in then sweeps us off our feet

Is all part of the way we begin to condition our heart to embrace the art of autumn...

The way that sunshine turns translucent, wings of butterflies

The way one’s breath is stolen by September’s sanguine skies...

The way that jars snare summer after its Season is through...

Is the way, Almost-Autumn, that we fall in love with you...

The way that sunshine turns translucent, wings of butterflies

The way one’s breath is stolen by September’s sanguine skies

The way that jars snare summer after its Season is through

Is the way, Almost-Autumn, that I fall in love with you

The way farewell’s suggestions start to seep through woodland tress

The way it tweaks soul-strings still thrilled with petal-happiness

The way The Inevitable presents its points of view

Is how I start to tell my heart to fall in love with you

The way bloom’s fringe turns brittle but Beauty remains intact

The way earth’s tinge showcases established matters of fact

The way no coaxing can revoke what is constant and true

Is the way, almost-Autumn, I yield to the touch of you

The way we cannot stay the heavy hand of come and go

The way wild asters spill to hill and field like purple snow

The way time’s give and take can make a heart ache with desire

The way late day starts earlier to stoke dusk’s shadow-spire/fire

The way goldenrod lamps gleam from creekbank, fencerow and woods  

The way each milkweed plume is primed with silver parachutes

The way the air begins to wear a chill we nigh forgot 

Is the way, Almost Autumn that I can forget-you-not   

The way the world is twirled on a four-season carousel

The way we straddle tides saddled to hello and farewell

The way we start to cherish clock-shaped treasure, moment-spun

Is the way that I always fall in love with You, Autumn

Dear almost-autumn, bear with me while I learn to begin

To undo summer’s tendrils tangled somewhere ‘neath my skin

Somehow, the way you wait while I grapple with gold and blue

Becomes the way, almost-Autumn, I fall in love with you

© Janet Martin

September Skin...

Happy September Saturday!

SO much is happening to remind us

of the preciousness of Time...

Let's cherish moments with our loved ones because

we never know what a day holds!

Each morning is set free from a fresh flask of moment-dust

Then seize its opportunity and raise thy glass to Trust

The colours of the countryside have lost their lustrous sheen

The timbre of time’s telling tide shucks cornfields of lush green

Deception’s furtive favours, for a small while may appease

The heart with summer-flavours steeped in ling’ring fantasies

But cannot keep at bay for long the truth that will be told

Where September tolls welkin gong and turns the pear tree gold

…and tips yon cruet, spilling bluest awning overhead

Where sweet time as we knew it runs a sentimental thread

Through you and I as we grapple with subtle season-shifts

While comforted by apple-orchard orb’s enticing gifts

As we count down last days of summer with awed gratitude

For who can tally the vast ways of God’s goodness renewed 

Each morning is set free from a fresh flask of moment-dust

Then seize its opportunity and raise thy glass to Trust

For everyone can ill afford to pine for yester-years

But taste time’s vintage being poured, before it disappears

We have an obligation, nay, a privilege to give

To God pure adoration for each single day we live

September stokes in us an ache for Season almost spent

Where we are beholden to make the most of Mercy’s ‘lent’

And learn to love the colours that are slowly seeping in

For glove of youth and valour will soon don September skin

Where the fool mourns what once was, but the wise remain content

Time is too precious to fritter in bittersweet lament

© Janet Martin

Eccles.3:1

To everything there is a season, 

A time for every purpose under heaven:

It is also still very much canning season;

Off to make some salsa!

(I got up at 6:00 to start the canning 

but then the sun was rising 

and then a poem begged!)

And such is always the poet's quandary/dilemma

...to heed domestic duties or to poem-a 😏😊

Time's Phoenix

September's kick-off was lively and lovely

in spite of the fact that I was mourning August's exodus.

Today is like an invitation, lovely as can be

To turn moments still in motion, into memory

Sculptor, poet, painter, potter; we are one of these

Turning morning’s latest offer into memories

Heartstrings tangle with the angle of shadow and breeze

As we wrangle threads that dangle, into memories

Today brims with perfect reasons to do all we dare

To make memories from seasons slipping to thin air

For all that remains tomorrow of today, you see

From fragments of joy or sorrow is its memory

Make the most of moment-tinder’s sparkling cuppa tea

Because time transcends its cinders in a memory

© Janet Martin

Make the most of moment-tinder’s sparkling cuppa tea...

Because time transcends its cinders in a memory

from this...

to this...

I  turned my back to take a 'memory-shot...

and when I turned around two more had wiggled beneath the quilt ...

It wasn't long before another joined them...

(tiniest tot was tucked into bed in the house)

Welcome, Sweet September!