the blue muse

It is warm here today for the end of October, I slept with the windows open last night, pretending that summer was still out there, somewhere, breathing in the sound of those last few crickets that haven’t gone into hiding just yet.

Just outside my studio window there is a patch of monkshood that is covered in honeybees just now, 20 or 30 of them sipping nectar frantically, stocking up for winter, reveling in this extra chance to gather before the temperatures get too cold for flight.

We still have not had a frost, there are still cosmos blooming in the garden, they, too, are pretending it is summer, these last few stragglers, moving in their last dance to the music of autumn. They wear pretty pink dresses and shimmy in the breeze, and no one has the heart to tell them that one night very soon, the cold hard reality of frost will end this year’s garden party.

I shall try to get out there today, in this warmth, and continue the cutting down and the cleaning up, but it is always so hard when these last few flowers still stand and reach for the sun, so hard to cut them down when they still bloom.

But I know that these flowers, these cosmos, have already set seeds for next year, have made their plans to carry on, have chosen the place they want to grow. And these bees will hibernate in their hive all winter, caring for their queen and eating honey, while I hibernate in my house, eating soup, and getting cozy by the fire.

Nature moves along with her cycles, but she likes to keep us on our toes by surprising us every so often with a warm October day. She knows that bees and cosmos and crickets and golden leaves are just small parts of the puzzle, she knows the way all the pieces fit together to create the big picture.

She knows the way of life. Knows, too, that each day the sun will rise and then also set as the constant backdrop to the ever-changing scenery she paints in the foreground of our lives.