It is a difficult choice. June is filled with new growth in the perennial beds and the planting of the garden, and with birdsong.
But September. Ah September.
The heat of summer has passed. I dislike the hot weather. I wilt easily.
My children and husband were born in September so it is a time of celebration for us.
In September, the sky is bluer than blue and it is still and quiet. The Missouri River is like glass. Each day is a gift, a pause before the northern plains winter to come. The tomatoes are abundant and my husband is busy with the harvest. He and his buddy will soon be occupied with the fall walleye bite on the Missouri River, and duck hunting begins. Right around the corner are pheasant and goose seasons. I get some time on my own. We get some fall projects done.
I can sit under our aspen grove and watch the leaves turn to golden. The two trees that Sheila Schafer gifted to us have grown to 35 feet tall.
The three aspen seedlings that I've allowed to remain are also doing well.
The back patio is nicely shaded on these September days and we can linger over morning coffee and supper. Overhead we watch the migrating hawks pass by.
The last Dakota Sunshine daylily of the year makes its appearance.
Meanwhile, in Theodore Roosevelt National Park, following the various shades of khaki and juniper, yellow is a dominant color, with the blooming of rubber rabbitbrush, curly-cup gumweed, and sunflowers. There is a hint of autumn in the green ash trees.
The bison rut has passed and the herds placidly move about the park, in their ancient rhythms.
Savor the wild September moments in your life.
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