Over in the North, the giant Coleus has put forth spikes of violet blue flowers.
The West quarter holds another giant: a Yucca well over ten feet tall. Here is one of its babies, sprouting out near ground level.
A couple of very interesting-sounding birds are calling in the garden. The dogs are dozing inside.
There’s nothing much going on in the South, however. There’s heaps of flaked-off wall paint, part of the preparation for repainting the outside of the house, and steel gates taken off last weekend and waiting to be re-welded and put up again.
This is my favourite time of the year. Rushing Dark Water, as the life river flows swiftly, for me, past the Tree and under the Bridge. Heading Westward, inscrutable and comforting in its opacity.
Falling backwards, I feel the water accept my soul and carry me away to the land from where we leave this life.
I’m not dying, and yet I’m very much dying. It’s blessed and peaceful.
In times like this, I can see the liminal place between states fairly clearly. And I am transported.