I love the way my bright yellow water hose looks sitting above the purple Mexican petunias. This still life that exists outside of my door was unintentional, but charming.

A friend of mine gave me a scattering of these flowers years ago and I “stuck” them near the garage where the yellow hose hangs, never thinking about their complimentary colors. These heat loving flowers do not fail to appear each summer and when they do, they provide beauty and a reminder of a friend.

I am urgently trying to grab more of the colors and fragrances only summer can give. I suppose we are in some sort of Indian Summer, (I use this term metaphorically); my gardenia bush is semi loaded with the fragrance of spring, my zinnias have reseeded and are going at it again, my pepper plants were never this productive in June and July and the dragonflies are beastly, nothing like the puny little guys of spring.

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There is indeed some sort of renaissance going on amongst the vegetation in Loreauville. I’m able to have little bouquets of fresh flowers in my house once again, just like the diminutive bouquets Elizabeth picked for me in early spring.

I should not mislead and say bouquet, for these puffs of color and flecks of fragrance are not nearly so sophisticated that they should be called a bouquet. They are instead small gatherings of the same flower put in equally small makeshift vases in my kitchen.

I could never contend with the decorative skill of a florist and arrange varieties of cut flowers. Mine are simple, four zinnias in what remains of a trio of tiny glass vases given to me on my birthday years ago by a friend or an old milk bottle that belonged to my mother stuffed with a handful of her favorite flowers, gardenias. If you are gathering cut flowers also and would like for them to last longer, add a couple of drops of bleach to kill any bacteria and a dash of lemon lime whatever (soda or the real thing) for a sugary treat and a bit of citric acid to help the water up the stem.

I am reading a book on Clementine Hunter (Skip and I said hello to her grandson at the Lafayette artwalk). Her life was so simple and pure, like her art. I have found something about her that I can relate to. I do not have a studio; I have a room off of my kitchen where I paint. I have never been able to label this little room, for as I said, it is not nearly sophisticated enough to stand up to the connotations of “studio.” I shall call it what Clementine Hunter called her little room in her house where she painted … the “paintin room.” I love the image and the connotation; it suits me.

I hope you enjoy this season of transition and relative stillness (before the jack o’ lanterns and Christmas trees are in the stores). Think about planting garlic, lettuces, cruciferous vegetables and root crops. Don’t forget the parsley and onion tops for gumbos and while you are there in the garden, grab a handful of late summer blossoms for inside.

“Arranging a bowl of flowers in the morning can give a sense of quiet in a crowded day — like writing a poem or saying a prayer.” —Anne Morrow Lindbergh

PAM SHENSKY is the mother of five and a teacher at New Iberia Senior High.