It amazes me how long it takes tomatoes to ripen--even the "Early Girls" are proving tardy. The plants are so weighed down they're taking the stakes with them, but the fruits are still that tomatillo green...I grow impatient. And the impatiens are full and bushy, as are the alumroot, all six varieties of cleome, the scented geraniums (rose & citronella.) The crocosmia are ready to transplant this weekend....intense little orange and red buds like a kindergartener's sketch of a flame. The acidanthera are ready to cut and bring in to my desk. And there is one intense, perfectly red tigridia in bloom. I want an hour just to sit and enjoy the whole sprawling mess...but so much needs done...trimming, deadheading, weeding...maybe after this weekend I can. I've missed the daylilies entirely. All their blooms, spent; hanging like soggy socks.
Sometime soon I'll be starting new poems...I can feel it. But I want them different. I want rush and word drunkenness and pause and...and..and....I want ecstacy.