SweetSeptember
Sweet September
Hal Borland
It’s Summer’s Completion, Autumn’s Prelude.
September is more than a month, really; it is a ason, an achievement in itlf. It begins with August’s leftovers and it ends with October’s preparations, but along the way it achieves special satisfactions. After summer’s heat and haste, the year consolidates itlf. Deliberate September – in its own time and tempo – begins to sum up another summer.
hepaWith September comes a n of autumn. It creeps in on a misty dawn and vanishes in the hot afternoon. It tiptoes through the treetops, rouging a few leaves, then rides a tuft of thistledown across the valley and away. It sits on a hilltop and hoots like an October owl in the dusk. It plays tag with the wind. September is a changeling, busy as a squirrel in a hickory tree, idle as a languid brook. It is summer’s ripeness and richness fulfilled.
Some of the rarest days of the year come in the September ason – days when it is comfortably cool
but pulsing with life, when the sky is clear and clean, the air crisp, the wind free of dust. Meadows still smell of hay and the sweetness of cut grass. September flowers are less varied than tho of May but so abundant that they make September another flowery month. Goldenrod comes by mid-August, but ris to a peak of golden abundance in early September. Late thistles make spectacular purple accents. And asters blossom everywhere, along the roadsides, in meadows, on the hilltops, even in city lots, ranging in color from pure white through all degrees of lavender to the royal New England purple.
We think of spring as the miracle time, when opening bud and new leaf proclaim the persistence of life. But September is abiding, and preparations are completed for another year, another generation. The acorn ripens and the hickory nut matures. The plant commits its future to the ed and the root. The inct stows tomorrow in the egg and the pupa. The surge is almost over and life begins to relax.nadi
The green prime is passing. The trees begin to proclaim the change. Soon the leaves will be discarded, the grass will be re. But the miracle of life persists, the mysterious germ of growth and renewal that is the ed itlf.
This is a gossamer ason. Dawn shimmers with spider filaments, proof that late hatches of spiderlings have the instinct to travel. On such gossamer strands tiny spiders have traveled into the Arctic and almost to the summits of the Himalayas. Soon milkweed pods will open, with their silver floss.wenzhou
This is the ason of the harvest moon. With reasonably clear skies it will be moonlit week, for the harvest moon is not hasty; it comes early and stays late. There was a time when the busy farmer could return to the fields after supper and continue his harvest by moonlight. There’s still harvesting to be done, but much of it now centers on the kitchen rather than the barns. The last bountiful yield comes from the
garden, the last sweet corn, the tomatoes, the root vegetables. The canning, the prerving, the freezing, the kitchen harvest in all its variety, reaches its peak.
m是什么意思First frost comes in the night, a clear, scant-starred night when the moon is near its fullness. It comes without a whisper, quiet as thistledown, brushing the corner of a hillside garden. Dawn comes and you e its path – the glistening leaf, the gleaming stem, the limp, blackening garden vine.
Another night or two the frost walks the valleys in the moonlight. Then it goes back beyond the north
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ern hills to wait a little longer, and the golden mildness of early autumn comforts the land. A faint ani smell is on the air, goldenrod scent. The mist swirls and September shines through, the deep-blue sky of September.
保养皮肤的步骤To warm-blooded creatures, the crisp, cool nights of September are invigorating. But cold-blooded incts are at the mercy of the sun and now their clocks run down. The cicada is stilled. The chorus of the cricket and katydid diminishes. When they rasp at all it is with the deliberate tempo of the fiddler drawing a worn bow across fraying strings.inspiration
Now come the hoarding days. Mice have been harvesting and stowing eds for weeks. The chipmunk likes his winter bedroom, and squirrels hide the nut trees’bounty. The woodchucks, gorging on grass and clover and fruit, lay up their harvest in body fat under their own skins.
cgi是什么The flickers begin to gather for migration. All summer the big woodpeckers were resolutely individual, busy with family life and wanting no company. Now they are gregarious, with time for tribal gossip and community play. The warblers and swallows have already formed in pre-migration flocks; soon the robins will be gathering too. Nesting is completed, fledglings are on their own, and there is food in plenty. September is vacation time for birds. Who know but that they are discussing the
compare是什么意思
trip ahead?
By September’s end the treasure chest of autumn begins to spill over with wealth. You e it glowing in the quiet afternoon, aflame in the sunt. Woodland, roadside and dooryard will soon be jeweled beyond a rajah’s richest dreams.
cgbThe year’s ason in the sun has run its cour. Nature begins to prepare for winter. After the color in the woodlands, the leaves will blanket the soil. The litter of autumn will become mulch, then humus for root and tender ed. The urgency of growth is ended for another year, but life itlf is hoarded in root and bulb and ed and egg.
