Sigh

Summer's last bright stand

Fields transitioning to cover (see Jason's head in the okra in foreground)

A moth getting the last of summer sugars

Do you ever have days where your mind just draws a blank?  I don’t mean stupidly (though I have those days too), but comfortably:  days when you just can’t find anything to fret about.  Perhaps it’s some sort of resignation, but it feels more akin to acceptance.  Where things are just set in motion and you refuse to worry about them anymore.  I’m having one of those days, well, weeks, maybe even months.  I am aware, somewhere in my conscience, that there is still some scrambling around left to do, still some large projects looming, but I can’t resist the ease of cool evenings, open windows, the front porch.  It’s an alluring lullaby, the end of August.  More and more fields trade in their feverish reproductive fervor for a simple cover with no expectation other than to hold onto the soil over the winter and hold hope for the spring.  Even the buckwheat with its whirring metropolis of insects scrambling to store enough sugar for the winter season sounds like a sigh.