Seeing September Out

The days of September whisked by with speed that rivals flapping hummingbird wings making their way over ripening fields of soybeans in an Ohio sunset toward winter warmth and light.  Tomorrow begins the frightful month of October with Halloween and long leggity beasties and things that go bump in the night, but today it’s still September.

In September...

Pink hollyhocks twirl about tall spires

Zinnias in pink, red, orange, and cream find the autumn light

Herbs continue scenting the fall breeze

Gaillardias remind of south of the border places

While family and friends create hundreds of tamales on a single, September Saturday

A gift of bittersweet for fall decorating

And lobsters, fresh from New England waters, find their way to an Ohio dinner table

Yes, September is a fine month and I shall miss it as leaves turn, Jack Frost paints pumpkins with frost, and ghouls and goblins take over the night.

A Visit from New England

This is so not about gardening, but about dining alfresco with two invited guests from the shores of New England. A surprise call came a week or so ago asking if we were interested in having two friends join us for dinner? I jumped at the chance, these are two very much adored guests. The date was up in the air and I knew it would be an impromptu appearance, but I looked forward to it like a fish out of water looks forward to being tossed back in to the sea.

A few plans were made on Saturday with discussion about the time of arrival and how these two crazy characters would find their way here. And then… the call came. The guests were enroute and a frenzy of activity began.

Red potatoes needed scrubbed and boiled. My disappointment that the local grocery store had no fresh corn on the cob dissipated as I rushed about tidying up the patio, washing off the table outdoors, and preparing. My brother brought ice-cold beer and I poured each of us a frosty mug to sip while we sliced lemon and placed pats of butter in small glass dishes for melting.

The excitement mounted when the phone rang with an ETA of just 12 minutes until they’d be in my kitchen. I mixed up dough for cheddar, garlic biscuits. Everything was at the ready.

A car door slamming and a knock on the door sent me scurrying. Finally, our New England visitors arrived. They looked delicious in mottled hard shells, with long antennae twitching and claws safely banded. The journey from New Hampshire to the boiling pot of salt water took about 13 hours, but finally a fresh lobster dinner in Ohio. The smell of the ocean surrounded the delectable creatures and for one brief moment, I was back on the Cape with the breeze telling a story of salt, sea creatures and the ocean.

We dined outdoors, cracking open claws and tails filled with the delicate white meat. Dipping bits in butter and sipping beer, the conversation was fun, satisfied bellies stretched, and life was good.