The here and now

Today is the first day of fall, the autumnal equinox, an expression I love.  There are two equinoxes each year, I have learned:  the vernal or spring equinox and this one.  The fascinating thing I see, in growing things is that sometimes the equinoxes affect plants the same way in both seasons.  For instance, flowering quince blooms magnificently in the spring, but we get a few random blooms in the fall, too, when the hours of sunlight are the same.  Spring days get longer, fall days get shorter, but there is that point of balance at these two times when they are just about the same.  We saw a few white spirea blooms the other day.   Magical.

 First thing this morning, or at least almost first thing, as soon as I had fed the hungry Max cat, I walked around the garden (or really just the back yard, but we like to call it the garden), and relished the relative coolth and enjoyed how relieved all the plants look. The red fall amaryllis are blooming several places as well as the rain lilies, we just had one golden sternbergia and several spider lilies bloom but expect more, the chrysanthemums are preparing to pop out, the geraniums and periwinkles and marigolds and crape myrtles are still flourishing, and one can just see the boost that the daylilies have achieved with the rain and the cooler temps. And simply nothing discourages the lantana, bless it. I try to enjoy being in the moment when I have these strolls, but it's also hard not to be making mental notes of what needs to be done next and changes and all that. A gardener's mind is apparently always plotting and planning even while enjoying the here and now.