Six days until the equinox and the garden has already decided summer is over — every bloom throwing its last color out like a dare. The dew hasn't dried and neither has my excuse for being out here like this. Want to see what it's clinging to?
Six days until the equinox and the garden has already decided summer is over — every bloom throwing its last color out like a dare. The dew hasn't dried and neither has my excuse for being out here like this. Want to see what it's clinging to?
There's a star overhead that burns garnet-red and can't make up its mind how bright to be — I've been checking on it every clear night this week, and tonight it's practically showing off. The binoculars are still warm and the cardigan gave up on propriety around the second hour. Care to see what all the fuss is about?
Half a degree between the Moon and Venus tonight — close enough that my best eyepiece might not split them, and Mercury and Spica are crashing the party too. I've been at this table since lunch arguing with my own equipment. Want to come see who's winning?
The Blue Snowball Nebula won't show itself without a telescope and more patience than most people own — and the lake mirrors every star overhead. I've been here long enough to stop pretending the night air required anything from my wardrobe. What took you so long?
Dione spent half the night skating Saturn's edge while Tethys vanished into his shadow — I watched every minute from the garden wall and never quite made it back to bed. The sun found me first. Care to see what it's already claimed?
Jupiter and the Beehive Cluster pressed right against the last sliver of Moon before dawn — I had the window open since three and now I can't bring myself to leave the sheets. Care to see what the early light found instead?
Eleven centuries of embroidery and someone finally decided to let people look at it again — I've had every textile manuscript I own spread across the desk since I heard, and somewhere around the third book the robe stopped cooperating. Care to come see what's got me so distracted?
Three days brewing and the color still isn't right — though I'll admit I got distracted watching the afternoon light do interesting things to this shirt. Want to see what I mean?
The Aurigids are being miserly tonight and the Moon is stealing half of what little they offer — I walked out to the hillside to get away from the cottage lights and stopped pretending the blanket needed to cover anything the moonlight hadn't already found. Care to come see what it's claimed?
Venus is practically whispering in Spica's ear tonight — less than two degrees apart and both glowing like they've got a secret. The garden bench is warm and I've stopped pretending the evening needs anything from my wardrobe. Care to come see what all the fuss is about?