Last rose

Our weather has been unseasonably warm, 20 degrees Celsius and sunny with warm breezes. We are not accustomed to Octobers with such weather. We are wearing summer clothes, though the fall and winter clothes are on stand-by. An October walk by the bay showed a mix of the last gasps of summer and the promise of autumn.

Wild mustard blooms are almost gone and the seed pods are visible.

Aster blooms are abundant although some have withered and gone to seed.

This type of thistle appears to partially bleach every autumn. Could this effect be due to an iron deficiency or sun scorch?

The winterberry holly has its characteristic berries now, a ready bird food for the winter months.

Grasses along the river which flows into the harbour are showing their age,  as they become more straw-like.

Bees are busy still and wasps are particularly aggressive.

This old tree trunk which we call the perch, is a resting place for a mourning dove on this day. Many species of birds use the perch but a number have already flown south.

And of course, some leaves are changed already.

The Last Rose of Summer, a poem by the Irish poet Thomas More, came to mind any time my husband and I came across the rare fading beauties.

The poem was set to a traditional Irish tune which I love. This version of the song, sung by Celtic Woman, brings back memories of piano lessons and school choir during elementary school. 

The Last Rose of Summer is here.