Without mentioning the continuing struggle with lunch, some of us are coming to the end of our ability to manage the heat. The Chard is doing it's very best against those little black Caterpillar, Sweet Potato prefer to wilt in the afternoon which is probably rodent related and the gardener is giving serious consideration to one of those yearning odes to frost, not many of them written. With the winter poems more often it has more to do with Christmastide and bunch of nonsense about Yule Logs and jingling. And then there's a raft of poems that play winter as an analogy to old age. Why it's called Old Man Winter I've no idea, other than to assume that through the years winter has bumped a lot of us old people off.
The best known poem by Dylan Thomas is the one that contains "Do not go gentle
into the night" and it goes on a bit about "rage against the dimming of the
light." The thing about that poem is, and far to many people forget this, it was
written during second world war and was inspired by the bombing of London. One
of the bombs killed a one hundred year old man, and to the poet this just seemed
very, very wrong and ratty making. A man who had reached the age of 100, killed
by a bomb. Call me a callous swine, but at least it was unexpected and quick.
First frost day around here is supposed to be middle of October. What's the
betting we don't get a little help with grass mowing and blood sucking insects
until well into November.