In the Northern Hemisphere, we are one day away from the Autumnal Equinox—September 22. While I love this crisp time of year, I am always a little sorry to see a season end. (And, yes, I feel the same way about winter, too.) This summer, while too dry, was lovely nonetheless, with days that weren’t too hot or humid. At least most of the time. It actually felt like an old-fashioned Maine summer, the ones I remember from my childhood. So farewell, Summer! While I hope 2027 has more rain, I hope we have the same lovely temperatures.
Yesterday, I took some pictures of our yard and road to chronicle the changing season.
The coleuses are still thriving and will continue to do so until a hard frost nips them.
But I have stopped deadheading the flowers, and now that summer is coming to an end, they are free to be their rangy, spiky selves.
The begonias are doing well, too, and provide a welcome burst of color by the front door.
As for the gardens…well, we are heading toward late September, and as always, the plants are pretty much done blooming for the year. The picture below gives readers a pretty good idea of what the gardens look like. (Oh, the phlox was so beautiful this summer!) Readers can also see the progress on the house. The new siding is up, and the window frame is patched. Next comes the painting.
While the gardens are in decline, the trees, with just a tinge of color, are beginning to gear up for their autumn glory. I went to the end of our driveway and took this picture of our road. Still a lot of green, but there is a slight blush of color.
And in our driveway, a little color, too, a preview of what will come when the leaves coat the driveway in a thick carpet. Then we turn to our trusty leaf blower—electric, of course—to help clear the driveway.
But that’s a couple of weeks away.
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Reading
I had planned to keep a monthly book log, but as I thought about my birthday challenge—70 books by 70—it seemed better to list them by the week. That way, I can go into them with a little depth without having readers’ eyes glaze over from too much information.
Book 1 of my 70 by 70 challenge
John of John by Douglas Stuart
Warning: Minor Spoilers
John-Calum (Cal) has graduated from art school, but unable to find a job, he couch-surfs at his friends’ homes and steals food from them when they are away. Therefore, when Cal’s difficult father, John, summons Cal home to Harris, an island in the Outer Hebrides, Cal only hesitates briefly. When John tells Cal that his grandmother is sick, this clinches the deal.
So home Cal goes, to his angry, sometimes abusive father, his beloved grandmother, Ella, and the tight religious community—Free Presbytarian—he left behind for the sinful big city.
Cal’s father is a lay preacher, sheep farmer, and weaver with a true feel for color and texture. He is also gay, a fact he hides from almost everyone, including his son. Cal is gay, too, and he also hides this from his father and most of the island community. This tension—a closeted father and son—drives the story, dialing up the emotional temperature of the book.
I became totally immersed in the world Stuart created—the austere beauty of the island as well as the family turmoil—and I read avidly late into the night to find out how the conflicts would play out.
But I do have two major criticisms.
First, religion is initially up front in John of John and of great importance. But as the story progresses, religion is pushed to the back burner to make way for Cal’s and John’s issues. The minister is never more than a one-dimensional figure, and while the church is featured from time to time and even causes a violent confrontation between Cal and John, it just doesn’t get the time it should in this story. After the chains-in-the-playground incident—put there to stop kids from playing on Sunday—I wanted much more about the Free Presbyterians, a group I had never heard of until I read this book.
Second, John is a violent, angry father who still beats his twenty-two-year-old son. Yet it felt as though the reader was supposed to root for John’s search for self-actualization in the book’s concluding chapters. While I had some sympathy for John and his conflicts, I found I couldn’t cheer him on as he tries to come to terms with his sexuality. Stuart made him too hard and too abusive. In short, John is a real canker.
But I was with Cal—sometimes selfish, sometimes good-hearted— all the way, even when he made bad choices. And it was this sympathy that kept me reading.
Notes From the Hinterland 