slowly, then all at once

Sitting outside ready to meditate, I noticed the sun had shifted ever-so-slightly in the direction that signals the coming of autumn. The pagan holiday for this time of year is Lughnasadh (Lammas). It is a pre-harvest celebration, midway between the autumnal equinox and the summer solstice's longest day of the year. For me, it is signaled by this subtle change in light, particularly in the morning. There are peaches, blackberries, tomatoes (finally!) the beginning of melons, the end of my blueberries. The heat of summer can still be found some days even as the sun's intensity is diminished overhead.

I love holding these two seeming dichotomous states- the {sudden} shift of light and the knowledge that this process has been in effect each day. Every day. An imperceptible change in sunrise, sunset, until one day a noticeable difference. It reminds me of Hemingway's quote on how people go bankrupt, "Slowly, then all at once." And so much of life. Our children's transformations, learning new skills, new developments. How did I learn to knit? Slowly, slowly, over the course of many years. Then all at once. And suddenly I had a project I couldn't believe I had made.

Of course, the movement of the seasons hardly stays all-at-once {for long} and is by it's very definition, a continuation of slowly. The process constantly changing, shifting, moving in the direction of the circle. We notice the all-at-once on a particular day, label it fall, and watch as it shifts again toward winter, the uneasy nebulous nature of change given a static label. We switch our shoes. Coats. Activities. As the movement becomes imperceptible again. Until the next subtle shift of light becomes noticeable to our eyes. Our minds. Slowly. Then all at once {we notice}. Again.



Very hungry caterpillars. I don't know why I thought the slugs were eating these petunias. (A hazard when growing petunias to be sure. Everyone seems to want to eat them. They must taste as good to them as they smell to me.) Eva and I have been studying the three, four, then five! caterpillars living on this one petunia plant for a few days, noticing their different colors and how they sometimes stand up or lay down, depending. Somehow one of them (or a family member) ended up on the patio near the peaches and we duly placed him back on the petunia with the others. Perhaps later in fall when these guys have all turned into cocoons would be a safer time to grow petunias. The two I planted out by the sweetpeas have {so far} remained untouched. It is flower central out there with plenty to choose from, which probably has a lot to do with it. Or maybe purple petunias are particularly tasty.



The sweetpeas and chamomile are having a long season this year. I have been drying the chamomile as I remember and am thoroughly enjoying the strong fragrance of these particular plants. I love these multi-colored sweetpeas with the different shades of purple.



I let several of these plants stick around this year to see what they were. I love them with the sweetpeas and calendula. Their clusters of tiny flowers are a lovely shade of pink. Any ideas on what type of plant they are?