I miss the days of my youth.  Carefree with nothing to do and nowhere to go.

The milkweed not only feeds the Monarch’s larvae in preparation for its transformation, it also has a tremendous beauty that can be seen throughout the seasons.  Even in its last breath of life, it gives one final act of beauty – the propagation of its genes through an interesting seed dispersal mechanism.

Observed the big three three today.  Is there a significance in the numbers?  Thirty-three seems more ominous than say thirty-two or even thirty-four.  Some believe Christ was crucified around the age of thirty-three.  I hope I make it through the year without such a harrowing ordeal or with the development of a messianic complex.

My favorite time of year is upon us.

Fall sedum in a time of Indian Summer.

To the one lone rain cloud pouring its soul onto the land,

I feel your pain and loneliness.  It’s a tough world when all the other clouds make fun of you for your premature expenditure.  Perhaps you were making a statement.  Perhaps there was a lone thirsty grove of fall aster under your canopy.  Perhaps you were tired of carrying such a heavy load in such a dry climate.  Whatever your circumstances, keep your cloud head up.

-Steve

The sting, bitter and painful. The pollination, essential.  Thank you dear wasp.

A prayer for safe passage as you cross the river.  A prayer for wealth as Charon takes your coin.  A prayer for patience as limbo becomes a place rather than a dancing game.  A prayer for humor as you enter the divine comedy.

Some of the most visually striking elements of my yard’s landscaping occur during the autumn months when the sowed has gone to seed and the annual cycle of life dwindles with the approaching dusk.

The coolness of the blue flame.  So enticing.  So tempting.  I just want to touch it.