Journaling summer's end

End of summer poetry.

A week can seem a long time at this time of year. A week ago we were at our beach chalet, enjoying walks along the clifftop and I was appreciating early-morning escapes with my sketchbook, catching the last of the summer before it disappeared with back to school ironing and nagging about homework. I was savouring the swifts and swallows as they flitted across the sand, aware that they too will be on the move, making new starts. It's at times like this that I really appreciate my journaling habit as I record the fleeting things I notice as the seasons roll around. And in just a few days that end-of-summer feel to the days has given way to spider-web garlands across the garden and a damp chill to the mornings. Nights are pulling in and the shadows are lengthening. I gave the grass in the garden its one of the final cuts of the year, but in so doing noticed that the Codsall Pink that had looked like it wouldn't make it through the summer heat now has some fresh growth, and a sugar-pink petunia that has self-sowed near the old compost area is flowering away. September is my favourite time of year in the garden as it slowly collapsed - the energy of summer has died away and there's a slower, more languorous feel to the growth, as it all slowly goes to ground.