The waxing moon has suddenly taken on an orange glow this week, due to drifting smoke from the fires up in Canada that tinge the atmosphere.

It hangs in the sky much like a leftover hunk of yellow cheddar, perhaps one that was nibbled on. My inadequate camera does not catch all the details, but you get the idea.

Tomorrow will be a Full Blue Super Moon. Weather permitting, moonrise should present as a massive tangerine ball of wonder on the horizon.

I missed the Northern Lights for the second time this summer. Will this now be more of a regular event in our area? Not long ago I would have been out there watching the Perseid meteor showers and maybe caught the Aurora like so many people did, but by 2:30 am this tired lady was in bed. Supposedly you have to look through your phone camera lens to actually see all the bright colors. I feel fortunate to have seen them with the naked eye many, many years ago.

Life on The Urban Porch has been punctuated throughout the last couple of months with ongoing construction by our local utility company. The streets have been opened up from one end to the other, pavement cut, trenches dug, blacktop rolled, old bluestone sidewalks lifted and replaced. During intervals amidst the cacophony, I turn down my hearing aids and sit outside to observe, wishing the grandkids were all here to watch the massive shovels, backhoes, dump trucks, vacuums and giant road saws do their thing. Our little section is finally coming to completion. Rudi supervises from the window.

As was mentioned in a prior post, despite ample rain and humidity, we continue to experience a mostly mosquito-free summer, and the yellow jackets have not been haunting the porch either. There seem to be less butterflies this year too, although they are still around. In contrast, the yard is a-buzz with bumble and honeybees, laden with their pollen payloads.

Once again, the Blue-Winged Wasps have returned to the front lawn, searching for grubs. They cruise low to the ground and hover above the hostas in a swirling, ever-moving mass, never alighting long enough to allow a decent picture of them. When I walk across the yard with the dog, they part before us and reconvene after we have passed through, as if there is some invisible shield surrounding our presence, a reverse magnetic field repelling them from our path. Clearly they are aware, so perhaps there is. Non-aggressive – I’ve yet to be stung by one – we coexist. I’ve never been thrilled about a wasp before, but have enjoyed their arrival.

Here’s a fast blur of one cruising at low altitude:

Because I can’t manage to catch a good phot0, I’ll share one from the web so you can admire the color and markings of the Blue Winged Wasp (Scolia Dubia).

The “shabby-chic” floral wildness of the porch and front yard has begun to tip over into just “shabby” at this point. Late summer tumbles of blue Asiatic Dayflower (Commelina Communis) have encroached throughout the flowerbeds closest to the road. They pull out easily, so while a bit invasive, the tiny pops of cornflower blue are so pleasing that I always end up leaving a few, ensuring they will proliferate again. Dayflower is actually edible, both cooked and raw. A handful of leaves and flowers have graced a few past salads. Unfortunately this is not an option now, as the close proximity of both the Dayflower and Purslane to the sidewalk and street leaves them exposed to dog pee and car exhaust.

It is a time of sunflowers, Black-eyed Susans and compass plants –

Daylilies arrive

and the tiny orchid-like faces of the Obedient Plants have opened.

The hummingbirds are still here though

and the butterflies continue to enjoy the floral bounty.

A garter pauses on a hosta leaf

while bright colors of August abound.

Meanwhile, the mint has gone to flower.

Mesmerizing Zinnias adorn the neighborhood, inviting deep glances into their Fibonacci mandalas.

Summer sends her signals of upcoming closure when the dusty mauve/lilac of Joe Pye Weed bloom along the roadways.

A few things of note from the porch – my fig tree did not make one fig this year! I had cut it back a bit before last winter so it would easily fit back in the house, figuring the pruning would actually stimulate more prolific growth. Not one fig!!! I keep waiting hopefully but it’s a little to late to start now…isn’t it? I’ll have to do a little research on that….

While the fig tree was non-productive, the Trumpet Vine and wild grape vines have been working overtime. Despite having pulled them off the fence and ripped up or cut back as much as I could earlier in the summer, they have returned with a vengeance that has proved to be overwhelming; taking over two entire fences on both sides, wrapping tendrils around trees and bushes, snaking vines across the yard, spreading out with deep, almost impossible-to-remove roots that have infiltrated large swaths of earth behind the house. No doubt they have crept into our Very Nice Neighbor’s yard, and no doubt she has been trying to remove them from her side, while being too polite to say anything. I decided over the weekend to try and tackle some of this invasion.

When you pull the runners off the fence, the small gripping rootlets leave behind alien shapes on the wood. They remind me of Trilobite fossils.

I pulled off a massive amount of wild grapevine too. These grapevines have never produced any grapes at all – a little research seems to indicate that unlike cultivated grape vines which can self-pollinate, wild grapes are dioecious – which means they have separate male and female plants. Assuming this monster that has taken over my yard and reached up into the trees is a single male grapevine, it will always remain fruitless. There is now a pile of Trumpet Vine and grapevine so large that it will need to be hauled away in a dump truck, and I’m not even finished yet. It is so exhausting and frustrating that images of digging up the entire area with a backhoe and starting all over has been a recurring fantasy. As a matter of fact, when the utility company was digging a trench through the yard, I mentioned that “I don’t really mind if you dig the whole thing up”. They just laughed at me, but I was kind of serious…..

Meanwhile, the front of the house has been overtaken by ivy. At first I was very much enjoying the look of the ivy growing upward, especially where it is framing one of the front windows that faces west and gets very hot direct sun all afternoon. It has provided both shade and a bit of privacy. Unfortunately, the ivy has steadily crept onto the porch, across the steps, and encircled the front door, in addition to climbing up the front of the house, where it is now towering above the second floor windows and reaching toward the soffits. Aside that it’s not good for the siding, a Grey Gardens vibe might not be such a welcome style for the neighborhood, and things are definitely heading in that direction. So I have started pulling some of the ivy down too. It comes off a lot easier than the Trumpet Vine, but leaves quite the mess behind. and removing it from the higher elevations might be a bit challenging.

After devoting a number of hours spread out over three days to creeper wrestling – with only marginal accomplishment – I returned to the house in various stages of sweat-dripping, back-spasming condition. I’m tired and this does not feel that great. I don’t mind a few hours of weeding on a breezy morning, but tangling with vines in high humidity has been an exercise in frustration and exhaustion.

A striped flying “something” with a stinger attached itself to my bare shoulder, which I knocked off and reflexively stomped on, in the event it had any notion of using that stinger – then immediately felt guilty about my knee-jerk reaction. Various pieces of plant and animal matter are discovered clinging to my head,

while my damp, dirty skin is tattooed all over by stuck-on leaves. After a long, cool shower and a huge glass of iced coconut water, I lie on the bed in front of a fan, eyes closed, with Visions of Condominiums dancing in my head. I’m feeling I can’t keep up with this, no longer have the energy for it. I feel overwhelmed. Maybe I don’t want to be doing this anymore. I don’t know…..

August moves forward. The Milkweed pods have burst open, sending their seeds adrift on silky white wisps of gossamer.

As they take to the air, I reflect on cheddar cheese moons, flower mandalas, honey bees, summer clouds and seeds on the wind – and the practice of letting go……

~*~