Each drop its home

“Settling white dew
does not discriminate,
each drop its home.”
Sõin 1604 – 1682, Trans: Sam Hamill

Recently, the seasons have been tired and cranky, like a fat baby who needs a nap. Working in the garden on parched afternoons, my breathing kept getting stuck on the inhale. I’ve been feeling fussy too. The approaching season has been desperately trying to break out of some cocoon, grappling in the arms that bind, wanting to fly into the cool air. Me too.

Then, we had good rain, on and off for two days. It was the largest single rainfall total in over 3 years – over an inch and a half in some areas. Today, the sun is back, the garden is looking wonderfully refreshed – like that baby waking from its nap with giggles and wiggles.

One week ago, the Veggie Garden was filled with butterflies – big fat orange and black ones whose names I don’t care about knowing. Who knows who they were, passing through the station I tended. Our bok choy had bolted. The lettuce simply laid down and withered – what the squirrels left behind, that is. Once-lusty red cabbage, purple broccoli and cool season starts perished in their prime – reduced to emaciated leafless skeletons.

Today, walking my cat through my backyard, we both breathed in the light-suffused cool air, and sat together on the stone bench, warmed by the sun. The morning dew lingered on each leaf, sparkling like diamonds. Although the pink muhly grass (Muhlenbergia capillaries) grass pictured here is not in my yard (it is at The Garden) this is what the dew looked like at home today. Finally, with the rain yesterday and the dew today, the autumn season has arrived back home.