Rise and Fall

It is a perfect day, as far as weather is concerned. The sun is shining, it's warm, there's no breeze. I sat outside with my mugga joe this morning while Sal sunned himself. The magnolia warblers and Oregon Juncos are busy in the trees, picking off some of the jillions of ants who crawl up and down the trunk and branches. They occasionally come to birdish fisticuffs, as one bird encroaches on territory another obviously feels possessive of.

The toadlily I bought back in April, the one which froze and died back to the ground, is finally beginning to bloom. It took six weeks to reemerge after it died back, and I didn't think it would survive, but it's reached a respectable 18 inches in height, and has about 20 buds. Only one has opened so far though several others are just about ready.

The dainty little flowers are smaller than a dime, and hard to get a picture of with the combination of my old eyes and my camera's tiny viewing window. I took a half dozen pictures and got one which is almost in focus. The body of the petal is the palest pink, the spots are purple, the stamens, held above the petals, are reddish pinky purpley brown.

Colours seem almost electric at this time of the year. Gone is the soft light of spring and the brilliance of summer. Now the light holds a neon radiance and everything it touches shimmers.

The red mums are also beginning to open. The bushes have hundreds of buds, and by the time they all open there may be more flowers than leaves! Everything else in the garden seems to hold its breath.

It's the kind of day to store away in memory and bring out in January or February.