With a Shrug and A Grin

My summer chariot

Summer is gone, growth is declining - everything waning. The squirrels are in overdrive, children are bright-eyed again, their brains rescued from the haze of summer. This year, given the great satisfaction I experienced raising plants from seed for the first time, I am gathering seeds from these same plants to germinate again next year. I have already collected columbine seeds and day-lily seeds which rattle like maracas in their seed pods. And, of course moon flower seeds. The vines are now as laden with seed pods as they once were with flowers. I am also planting bulbs (tulips and daffodils) for next spring. Since Hurricane Irene, I have had a basement flood, buried a car, unearthed my bike, bought a car, returned to a five day workweek, read two good books,(The Red Tent by Anita Diamant and Tinkers by Paul Harding), and I am now in the throes of High School Hunting for my son, the eighth grader. My son is remarkably laid back, which I view with a mixture of relief and suspicion: thank God he's more easy going than me, but does nothing snap his spine straight? He tells me that I need to 'hang loose', 'don't worry about today what you can worry about tomorrow'. When words fail him there's the shrug and the grin, or the unassailable combination of the shrug-grin, which is the antithesis of its homophone chagrin (or perhaps, its antidote). I am trying to be down with that.

Moon flower seeds