Enjoying the last days of warm sun. Miss the long days with wind in my hair and sand in my shoes.
Every summer I visit the lavender farms in Sequim, Washington.
Everything is offered, dried flowers and leaves for sachet, small
bundles of the whole stem with flowers on them that will dry
naturally when placed in a vase or basket, soaps, lotions, and
essential oil for bath, potpourri and sachets are just a few
of the uses. The farms have been there for many years and
visiting is like stepping back into an old world garden.
“And lavender, whose spikes of azure bloom
shall be, ere-while, in arid bundles bound
to lurk admist the labours of her loom,
and crown her kerchiefs witl mickle rare perfume.”
by William Shenstone The School Mistress 1742
Did you know….
- Lavender is a herb in the mint family.
- Lavender is edible and can be used in cooking and making teas.
- The benefits and use of lavender has been known for over 2,500 years.
- In perfume, scented bath oils, and even mummification, the ancient
Egyptians used lavender profusely.
- Lavender in water can be used for cleaning floors and furniture.
It is an excellent and aromatic cleaner which can be used for laundry also.
- Nurses bathed the wounds of soldiers with a lavender wash, for its
healing properties, during World War I.
Relishing the last day of summer enjoying a rare moment doing nothing
but leisurely reading a New York Times magazine article about Lena
Dunham…turning real paper pages (usually I’m always reading from a
phone screen) as the last rays of a disappearing summer filters through
the window rendering tree shadows.
The last days of summer are so fleeting, wistful of
long, warm sunny days that call upon a bit of poetry.
by Howard Nemerov
Day after day, day after still day,
The summer has begun to pass away.
Starlings at twilight fly clustered and call,
And branches bend, and leaves begin to fall.
The meadow and the orchard grass are mown,
And the meadowlark’s house is cut down.
The little lantern bugs have doused their fires,
The swallows sit in rows along the wires.
Berry and grape appear among the flowers
Tangled against the wall in secret bowers,
And cricket now begins to hum the hours
Remaining to the passion’s slow procession
Down from the high place and the golden session
Wherein the sun was sacrificed for us.
A failing light, no longer numinous,
Now frames the long and solemn afternoons
Where butterflies regret their closed cocoons.
We reach the place unripe, and made to know
As with a sudden knowledge that we go
Away forever, all hope of return
Cut off, hearing the crackle of the burn-
ing blade behind us, and the terminal sound
Of apples dropping on the dry ground.
Lounging in the grass, not doing much of
anything except enjoying the moment
with an iPhone and a cluster of random
daisies. They grow everywhere in the wild.
I couldn’t resist taking these shots on a
lazy summer day and searching for the
See, the grass is full of stars,
Fallen in their brightness;
Hearts they have of shining gold,
Rays of shining whiteness.
Buttercups have honeyed hearts,
Bees they love the clover,
But I love the daisies’ dance
All the meadow over.
Blow, O blow, you happy winds,
Singing summer’s praises,
Up the field and down the field
A-dancing with the daisies.
By Marjorie Pickthall
Summer slips by too quickly so lately I’ve spent as many
nights as possible trying to catch the last glimpses before
it fades into oblivion. These are a series of photos taken
from Edmonds beach over the course of an hour at the
end of the day.
Photos were taken with an iPhone 4.
None of the photos has been altered.