The daylilies are fading now, for this year. Our Wisconsin winters teach me to love the garden in all its seasons. August is especially beautiful to me.
The light seems different today. For a time, I watched it fall on the floor. To me this is poetry: the light on the floor. I also think of the precious years of caregiving with my mother. What a privilege to buy food and flowers for her, cook, do laundry, sit and watch programs on TV; we grew a group of wonderful caregivers and helpers. We each played our part. Each person essential.
I don’t know the name of the wildflowers in this next photo. That might be a good winter project, learning a few more names.