Summer's End

I walk in my neighborhood all year long. Each season brings its treasures. This summer I saw the wildflower, Hibiscus trionum, tucked in around the bottom of a street light pole. The plant is commonly called "Flower-of-an Hour" because it blooms for a short period in the morning. The stem is prickly but the cream flower with the maroon center and yellow stamen is beautiful. Blue jays flew from tree to tree with their familiar shrieks. They seemed to be checking in with each other. "I am here. Where are you?"  "I am just down the street." All summer the trees do a yeoman's work absorbing noise, dust, and carbon dioxide while giving back green color, shade, and shelter. When we moved into this subdivision in 1991, the area was being developed. Newly planted saplings now provide bountiful shade. As summer ends, the vibrant greens fade. The trees begin to let go of leaves, following a natural rhythm. 

Whether the life cycle of a tree is long or cut short by disease or storm, losing one is hard. Trees are lovingly attended on the Great Plains. Willa Cather once remarked, "Trees were so rare in this country we used to feel anxious about them." Thousands of ash trees grow in southeast Nebraska. All of them are threatened by the emerald ash borer beetle. The landscape will look very different without the ash. As I understand it, chemical treatment may extend the life of the tree for five to ten years but eventually the tree will die. The poison treatments damage the tree and need to be repeated. We don't have an ash in our yard so don't have to decide whether to remove or treat a mature tree. I understand it is a tough call. I venture into controversy when I wonder: What are the long term effects of the chemicals on ground water, or the birds that shelter in the trees, nearby pollinators, or children who play in the soil underneath the canopy? What conditions created the ability of this insect to thrive? I don't know the answers but I think the long view is worth considering.

These ideas are on my mind as summer nears its end and I unravel my knitting. I am knitting swatches and then unraveling them. I knit loosely so achieving correct gauge can be a challenge. I'd like to knit the sweater Archer. Both stitch and row gauge are critical for shaping the yoke of the sweater. I have modified patterns based on a different gauge but the construction method of this sweater makes modifications seem quite daunting. Monday evening I ripped out and reknit the thumb gusset on the second mitten. Last night I knit on the mitten only to discover the cable was two stitches too wide and ran up the side (instead of the center!) of the hand. What was I thinking when I set up the pattern on this mitten?! I unraveled it and went to bed to read A Gentleman in Moscow. I've only just begun this novel but am enjoying it. Reading about the gentle kind intelligent man is a treat.

Linking with Kat and the Unravelers today as  I leave you with a poem I wrote over the course of three summers of walking. Who knows I may unravel and work on it again next summer.

Morning Walk

Walking with knives and forks clattering

in my mind, I sink into the stretch of my calf.

Air conditioners hum as the sole

of my shoe scuffs the pavement.

I nod to a runner. Chickadee calls.

Cardinal marks his territory.

I pause under trees, compare

canopy of pear, linden, and ash. 

Beneath a maple I plant my feet,

breathe into side ribs.

Rib to vein, vein to spine, breath

from breath, I meet another.

Jane A. Wolfe Copyright 2018

 

Under the Canopy

Most days I walk in my neighborhood. I wonder if the neighbors are amused by my habits. In the summer, I walk one direction to have the sun at my back. During cooler weather, I reverse the route so the steeper hill comes first. On hot summer mornings, I zig-zag back and forth across streets to stay in the shade. I leave electronic devices at home. I look folks in the eye and greet them. Lately I've been noting the arrangements of porch furniture and pots on the small front porches. Many decorate these spaces but no one ever seems to enjoy them. Our porch is very small, about large enough for two flower pots. My dream home has a large wrap-around front porch with a swing and comfortable chairs and pillows.

This week I stopped to look up and into the canopy of trees. This morning I stood under the very dense, deep green canopy of a linden and the layered leaves of a maple. I stood in the sun dappled space under an ornamental pear and was almost hidden by low hanging limbs of a large oak. The sound of the breeze through the leaves is peaceful. I didn't have a camera. Honestly if I'd stood under trees and took photos, the neighbors might think I was really unravelling. At home, I stood still and breathed deeply from the canopy of a linden. A pair of chickadees flitted among the branches and called to each other. Across from me, a mama house finch fed a fledging. I discovered a hint of autumn in the yellow leaves. Despite the craziness in the world, the rhythm of the season continues. The trees stand in the rain, sun, wind, cold, and heat. They take in carbon dioxide and release oxygen. Every year they grow a little taller and stronger. I find all of this reassuring.

Earlier this summer, I picked up a copy of The Cottonwood Tree, at a used book store. It is on a list of 150 books by Nebraska authors created as part of  Nebraska's sesquicentennial celebration.After cataract surgery, I plan to read it and learn more about the tree.

In the meantime, I am knitting more than reading. Although I set these socks aside, I tried again because I wanted to learn how to knit an after-thought-heel. Never one to give up easily, I placed the sock on the table, held a magnifying glass with my left hand, and picked up heel stitches from waste yarn with my right. This first sock was a little saggy so I ripped it out. It was a tangled mess but I did manage to save the yarn.

This heel doesn't fit my foot as well as a traditional heel flap and gusset. However, I might knit it again in order to maintain the sequence of stripes in self-striping yarn. Yesterday I cast on the third sock of this pair. Three socks for the price of two - more knitting time from the same amount of yarn. I may just carry my sock and chair outdoors in order to sit under the canopy of the linden. The day is fair and the leaves are rustling in this sheltered space.