A time to bloom a time to dry out.
And then the blooms turned from yellow to burnt orange.
There is no place to go but down.
Gravity knows no conqueror. Blooms become litter caught by a drooping leaf.
A time to fall, a time to dry.
Two buds, two stages, one life, one cycle.
Now, sitting outside one listens to buds falling to the ground.
8-10-12, the bees are gone.
The constant buzz is no more. bees and birds no longer visit the agave.
The buds are drying out.
When is the moment that growth turns to decay?
Maybe there isn’t a moment in the circle of life’s process.
And then there were stubs again.
Change is happening high in the agave.
A fall from branches to leaves.
Drooping leaves fill with fallen blooms.
To catch a dropping bud.
Moisture is leaving these agave appendages.
Natural patterns on the concrete driveway.
The way things fall and how they lay fascinates me.
8-14-12, falling, falling, falling little flowers.
There are no ants or flies attracted to these fallen flowers,
flowers that dry quickly under a hot sun.
8-19-12, transformation are underway from top to bottom.
Subtle coloring and collection of debris are the current state of affairs.
Flower litter decorates leaves and cevices.
Organic material turn to dust in hot humid summer air.
Close to the trunk new leaves will not grow out.
Colors change with the prevailing light’s nature.
9-4-12, the spear leaves have been drooping.
Two tales of one trunk: strength is drying-fading out.
No longer are the driving forces upward.
The bottom leaves are close to touching the ground.
The Agave century plant is again a perch.
For nearly three weeks no birds were seen in the plant.
From here one can comfortably see all-around.
A pair of birds have been here every morning when I go out to fetch
the morning newspaper. This is a nice way to start the day.
9-8-12, this epic saga turns the page into a new chapter.
Today I started to cut the wilting leaves-spears from the agave
trunk. The process of removal by man has begun.
Leaves and bloom litter begin to fill a refuse can.
Up into now when I cut into a leave it oozed a moist gel.
Each leaf-spear was surprisingly heavy, loaded with water.
Today when I cut dry sawdust is produced.
And there goes the agave bit by bit, cut by cut, sweep by sweep.
The carnival sprouted up, up up and blossomed into the biggest
show on the block. With a tinge of sadness I begin to dismantle
this magnificent agave century plant.
Now I can get closer to the main stalk.
Cutting the bottom row of spears allows me to the approach the spire.
What was once a blue moon sets at sunrise. Another day has begun.
Here today, gone today.
In a week or two the mail carriers will agin be able to use
the shortcut path that recently has been blocked by the drooping spears.
Forward to A Time to Fall.
Back to A Time to Bloom.
©2012 Anders Tomlinson, all rights reserved.