A River in Egypt

When I am out working, I get so warm I have to take off my jacket.  I am having to water again, especially any newly planted plants.  The furnace has been turned off.  Even though the witch hazel leaves have turned to crimson, and are shedding, and the Katsura is golden and looking threadbare, there are new flowers on the Welsh poppies and the big Campanula, the hardy fuchsias are going strong and the Verbena bonariensis is in full bloom.  I see as many flocks of geese heading north, back to the island each evening as I see heading south in the morning;  the geese are unafraid.  The sun is shining, the birds are singing, the grass is growing and we are already a week into November.  It can only mean one thing.  This is the year that winter skips us altogether!  I can plant and transplant, weed and propagate straight through until spring.  I don’t have to worry about the unplanted plants still lining the driveway.  Clearly there are no bitter winds, no Arctic air masses headed our way this year.  The air is soft and the soil still warm enough to encourage root growth.  Yes, there are still a few mosquitoes here and there, but nothing compared to June and July.  Sure, the moles and gophers are still very active, but we will push those back to the woods.  After all, we have all those benign months ahead in which to do so.  This is clearly the year I have so often dreamed about.  I am not late, I am not behind, and the soil is never going to freeze solid again.  I am so very, very happy!

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