Each day in October has been like a shiny bead, slipping softly one by one from a golden string. Today was exceptionally warm, and I wouldn't be surprised if we broke records. Late this afternoon the air was utterly still, as if a blanket lay across the land.
I'm cutting dahlias with abandon these days, leaving buds that will likely still have time to open. I lay them on the grass as I cut them, then gather them up in my hands to take indoors.
Everything in the garden seems suspended, waiting for a change. I've left the allium seed head to brown and dry, and today admired its architecture.
The oregano flowers still, and attracts bees of several kinds. I believe the fig tree is confused because it's putting out tiny new fruit that will never ripen. Does it think spring has come?
What a rude awakening it will have.