Sure signs of autumn are rows of colorful chrysanthemums and pumpkins.

This is the time of year that’s sort of in limbo. Summer is over but Autumn isn’t quite here yet. The leaves on the trees are dull looking but still a washed-out green, not yet ready to put on their vibrant show. The undergrowth in the woods has died back and we are now able to see into the woods further than we could a month ago. After our heat wave of last weekend (compliments of Ike) we are now having cool nights in the 40s and lovely days in the 60s. Perfection! So why does part of me want Autumn to come on and get on with it, make the trees change and etc? Why can’t I be satisfied to just enjoy this wonderful fall weather?

The sun is lower in the sky and the quality of the light is much softer. Here it shines through the leaded glass of our front door, creating a wonderful prism on the wall.

The oaks are dropping their acorns and what doesn’t fall to the ground naturally is being helped along by squirrels in the tree tops. Our recently delivered two cords of firewood is finally all stacked and waiting. I look forward to our first fire in the fireplace of the year.

Most things are done blooming now and my garden beds are looking pretty sad and blah. I do, however, have some of this pretty stuff blooming. I don’t know what it is, do you? I think I remember it showing up about this time last year too.

The pool was closed for the season yesterday. We’ll still continue to go down and sit in the cabana but it won’t be the same without being able to look into its blue depths. We really didn’t get much use out of it this year. August was pretty much a washout because the temperatures were unseasonably cool. We’ve had some hot weather this month but too late to bring the pool temps back up to a swimmable level. We really are considering a heater for next year. But they are so darned expensive, both to put in and run.

We have a busy weekend planned. Today we will step back in time and join in the revelry at the New York Renaissance Faire for their last weekend of the season. Rick will don his lace-up leather boots, billowy white shirt and vest, and I will once again put on my bodice and leave my bra behind.

Tomorrow we have tickets to the last ever Yankees game in Yankee Stadium. Should be fun!

Hope your weekend is a good one!

I know, I know. I am failing miserably in my attempt to keep up with the ABC-Along. No imagination lately I guess. So, here goes “O” is for Overtaken.

It started out mildly enough last year with a pretty morning glory vine appearing out of nowhere and covering the lattice work we had just put up to hide Johnny and other outdoor tools. I enjoyed its pretty blooms that start out pinkish-purple when closed, and upon opening turn a periwinkle blue in the morning light. It was a good thing. Or at least I thought so then.

This year that insipid little vine has turned into a clutching, tenacious monster.

I should have known we were in trouble when the lattice work below the deck wasn’t enough for it. It tentatively poked its sinewy, viny fingers up through the boards of the deck.

Then it latched on to the railing and crept its way up and up.

Thwarted in its attempt to go further upwards, it branched out sideways and attached itself to my petunias, like some alien life form searching for blood. I’ll get you my pretty ...

I put and end to that stranglehold pretty quickly.

It also has wound itself around our weather station, which we need to take care of before the anemometer can’t measure the wind speed anymore, but we need a to get the ladder out.

It even worked its way into being a support for this spider’s web.

Here it is in its full summer glory (so to speak).

See how its greedy little arms reach out in every direction?

It’s creepy the way that is keeps making its way further and further. Soon I expect it to reach the second floor of our house, the vine slipping under the bathroom window, creeping along the floor until it reaches our bed, wrapping itself around my neck ... no! whew. So much for not having an active imagination lately.

But it does look rather innocuous, doesn’t it? I think it’s just waiting for its chance.

Where the day lilies used to bloom, Queen Anne’s Lace now rules the roadsides. The delicate white umbels nod and sway gracefully as if they are waving hello as you pass by. For a lowly member of the carrot family, it has had bestowed upon it a truly royal name.

Just how did it come by its name?  The American legend says that Anne of Denmark (1574-1619), queen consort of King James I, was an expert lace-maker. The central flower of the carrot’s umbel is reddish-purple. This odd flower was placed upon the umbel for the time Anne pricked her finger and a drop of blood stained the lace. According to Webster’s Ninth New Collegiate Dictionary the name Queen Anne’s lace did not appear in print until 1895, two hundred seventy-six years after Anne’s death.

Another legend says:
Queen Anne’s Lace is said to have been named after Queen Anne of England, an expert lace maker. English legend tells us that Queen Anne challenged the ladies of the court to a contest to see who could produce a pattern of lace as lovely as the flower of this plant. No one could rival the queen’s handiwork. She however, pricked her finger with a needle and a single drop of blood fell into the lace, that is said to be the dark purple floret in the center of the flower.

One anecdote says Queen Anne’s Lace is so called because one tiny purplish floret in the center is the queen. The white florets make up her lace collar.

Yet another says that the white clusters apparently reminded the British of Queen Anne’s lace headdress.

English botanist Geoffrey Grigson suggests that the name of the plant comes not from a Queen of England but from Saint Anne, the mother of the Virgin Mary and the patron saint of lacemakers.

Whatever the true origin of its name, this lacey lovely graces the ground wherever it grows.

Black Swallowtail Butterfly on the butterfly bush.

I apologize for the wordless entries. I just don’t have any words this week! I hope you’re enjoying the photos anyway. Every time I walk down into the garden I see a different butterfly or bug and I just can’t resist trying to capture them with my lens.