daylight saving time

A Song for Springing Forward

~ shoreacres ~ 34 Comments

 

I bought a cheap watch from the crazy man
Floating down Canal;
It doesn’t use numbers or moving hands,
It always just says Now.
Now you may be thinking that I was had,
But this watch is never wrong.
And if I have trouble, the warranty said
Breathe in, breathe out, move on.
And it rained, it was nothing really new.
And it blew, we’ve seen all that before.
And it poured, the Earth began to strain;
Pontchartrain leaking through the door, tides at war.
If a hurricane doesn’t leave you dead
It will make you strong;
Don’t try to explain it, just nod your head —
Breathe in, breathe out, move on.
And it rained, nothing really new.
And it blew, seen all that before.
And it poured, the Earth began to strain;
Pontchartrain buried the Ninth Ward to the second floor.
According to my watch, the time is now;
Past is dead and gone.
Don’t try to shake it, just nod your head —
Breathe in, breathe out, move on,
Don’t try to explain it, just bow your head —
Breathe in, breathe out, move on.
Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in. I drink at it; but while I drink I see the sandy bottom and detect how shallow it is. Its thin current slides away, but eternity remains.
Henry David Thoreau

Comments always are welcome.

Lingering Lavender

~ shoreacres ~ 55 Comments
Winged loosestrife (Lythrum alatum) ~ Brazoria Wildlife Refuge

Australian blogging friend eremophila recently coined the phrase ‘Sprummer Downunder’ — her way of acknowledging that spring and summer sometimes can be hard to separate from one another.

Seasons never are as clear-cut as the human invention known as daylight saving time. As the northern hemisphere moves toward winter, I responded to her ‘Sprummer’ with ‘Sumtumn,’ my own invented word for the mixing of summer and autumn.

Silverleaf nightshade (Solanum elaeagnifolium) ~ Galveston Island

Many of our summer flowers do persist into fall, and even into winter. I’ve found asters of various sorts blooming in January after three days of freezing temperatures. Each of the native flowers shown here continues to flourish despite shortening days and colder temperatures, and while the loosestrife surely will fade soon, I expect to see the asters and nightshade for many more weeks.

Perennial saltmarsh aster (Symphyotrichum tenuifolium) ~ Seabrook, Texas

Combined with the bright yellows and golds of sunflowers and goldenrod, autumn’s lavenders and purples — berries as well as flowers — are as much a sign of the season as falling leaves. Best of all, they’re willing to stay with us for a while.

 

Comments always are welcome.