August

Because we spent so many summers in Sandwich before we moved here full time, most of our perennials and flowering shrubs are at their peak in July. August ushers in a month of shedding blooms to ready for fall. The day lilies have passed, the daisies are done, the elegant hosta tendrils are drying, and the riotous bee balm patch, which the humming birds flocked to, chirping and whirring, has lost its red fireworks display. We’ve put the hummingbird feeders back up so that the spunky little birds can fatten up for their journey south. It appears that the males with their showy ruby throats have already vacated, choosing to migrate as a stag party. Pleasingly, though, the rose bushes continue to bloom, the hydrangeas which were white all summer have started to blush, and the black eyed Susan’s lend cheery notes to the meadows. (There’s a hummingbird in the photo of the bee balm. It’s near the top, flicking its long slender tongue into one of the remaining flower petals.)

We also enjoy lovely bouquets of mushrooms. Don’t ask me which ones are edible. I’m sadly deficient in my mushroom foraging knowledge, but I’m smart enough to not experiment with them in my kitchen!

On the farm, August is the month of abundance. The farmstand is awash in color — carrots, cucumbers, tomatoes, squash, lettuce, onions and garlic, and a bucket of sunflowers out front. Stephen was on his tractor this morning when Rosie and I walked by, and he stopped to tell me that today, the last day of August, is the first day of “fallcation,” as this year it is the first day of school. The place is much quieter with Elsa off to high school and Rachel off to teach middle school science. Soon Stephen will begin the process of putting the farm fields to bed for the winter, dreaming of deer hunting season. The sheep go walkabout from time to time. Rosie and I came across these ragamuffins in the woods on the way down to the farm. Stephen and his dog Tilley rounded them up in no time. (Tilley went to sheep herding camp!) The wonderful photo of hens in a tree comes from our good friends and egg providers. I’ve seen chickens roosting that way on the farm (where foxes can’t get them) but they’re a bit scarce at the moment as they are destined for a date with dumplings. No pigs this summer — the pen is a pumpkin patch.

The grandkids (and their parents) came for a visit and had a wonderful time. The lake was the biggest draw as all three are fearless in the water, but the farm was also a delight. If only I had a video of our five year old grandson, stick in hand, running full speed behind the line of sheep scampering from the upper pasture to the barn. The curly haired twin granddaughters (two years old) were enthralled.

Squam Lake was also a playground for the Squamazons. (Click here to read a post all about our merry band of swimmers.) We added to our underground installations. (That’s me in the swim cap with my bestie Vicky showing off our gumball jar, a jar filled with colored golf balls that we collected from the lake bottom.) We saw very little of great blue herons during our swims this summer, but we often had loon escorts.

Back at our little house, it’s been a wonderful summer. Farm flowers adorn our wood stove, Rosie is on the alert, ready to bark away squirrels that do acrobatics on our bird feeders, a bald eagle did a flyover, and we have been graced by bears sauntering across our meadows. There have been many sightings around town of a sow and her three cubs. Vicky’s brother John Lloyd took the amazing photo. She’ll be headed back to North Carolina soon (Vicky, not the bear), which means summer must be about over. Hope yours was as lovely as mine.