Where are the songs of Spring?

Think not of them.

It's the "Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness," as Keats so eloquently put it.

Between the heavy rains, we've been treated to some of the most glorious early fall days these past 2 weeks. Temperatures are warmer than average. When the sun shines, it's T-shirt weather, and winter seems far distant.

In his Ode to Autumn, Keats imagines Autumn and the sun conspiring

. . . to set budding more
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease

And so it is, out in the garden. The tall asters are blooming, with plenty of buds in reserve. This afternoon, the blossoms were covered with all manner of bees and a few butterflies.

After mid-September brush with cold, I almost ripped out all my tomato plants. Instead, I'm still harvesting cherry tomatoes - 'Mountain Gold' and 'Ildi.' I've got a couple large 'Purple Cherokee' tomatoes that may yet ripen.

So while others may be putting their gardens to bed, I'll linger with mine a little longer. Besides, I have some potted transplants that still need to get in the ground.