Ponderous grows the landscape, sluggish is the lawn. The vibrant, lively hues of Summer ripen and languish. Glowing sprays of Goldenrod permeate the garden while ornamental grasses brandish their feathery tufts of bronze seed heads. Gold finches return to assess the maturing Coneflower’s bounty. Autumn whispers its intentions warmly but…

Sloughing off the final olive-drab layers of a season past, a sapphire carpet of Spring ephemerals arose as the Redbud’s ethereal blooms cast a cheery glow unto the scene.  Swelling buds and nodding Daffodils dotted the landscape as the grass grew green and lush.  Spring was in full swing.  …

  From the metallic trill of the Cardinal to the rapid, cherry whistle of the Robin; to the hum and drone of the bee, to the rhythmic patter of rain; nature perfects her overture, each day adding a new sound, another layer until her melody is as diverse and lovely as she.   Mother’s…

  Brittle like parchment, the arctic air sliced through the landscape with little resistance as it slashed and gnawed at flesh like a hungry, rabid beast.  It was fit for no creature, great nor small.  Experts call it a polar vortex.  We call it Winter.     So as we skirt into 2018, bright, shiny,…

  Blanched and pallid, cracked and withered, the landscape was slowly succumbing to the dry, repressive heat.  Lawns crackled and crunched underfoot as they lay dormant and drained.  Desiccated leaves scraped and scratched their way along the ground.  The soil resembled a great jigsaw puzzle as drought fissures became more…

The fog sidled in slowly, lying in wait in the hollows and dales before leaching out and swallowing the land whole.  Darkness wore a misty shroud which light could not penetrate, refracted from the formidable force. Winter, too, can be a challenging foe, particularly when the gray days seem to bleed one…

  From the metallic trill of the Cardinal to the rapid, cherry whistle of the Robin; to the hum and drone of the bee, to the rhythmic patter of rain; nature perfects her overture, each day adding a new sound, another layer until her melody is as diverse and lovely as she. Mother’s Day…

As we enter the second week of September, there’s a noticeable change in light, its intensity and duration have diminished, yet it’s something more.  Something immeasurable, but you know you’re no longer looking at a Summer sky.  I often ask myself if I didn’t own a calendar or wasn’t keenly tuned in to…