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Posts Tagged ‘Autumn’

“I thank you God for this most amazing day, for the leaping greenly spirits of trees, and for the blue dream of sky and for everything which is natural, which is infinite, which is yes.”  e.e. cummings

Yes!

We have enjoyed some amazing “blue dream” skies hereabouts as summer drifts into fall.

Autumn is a favorite time of year for me as warm days give way to cooler nights which bring about the vivid shades of reds and yellows and browns that dapple the many forests and the parkways of my existence. There are hints of Autumn splendor now, even as we mourn the wilting flowers that proclaim their weariness as they turn brown, set seed and die back.

While the woods transform, so do the prairies. They are a moveable feast for the birds and for the pollinators gathering from the plethora of seeds and the last of summer’s blooms. I love to watch the goldfinch, the chickadees and other feathered friends as they flit about gathering sustenance for their journeys on the long winter ahead.

These are, I believe, sawtooth sunflowers. They have brushed the prairie landscape in magnificent swathes of golden splendor and rise above their cousins to amazing heights, touching the sky and daring my beloved Antler Man to see how much taller they are than he is. These sunflowers rise more than 10 feet tall.

So, dear friends, off I go to see what I can see, in search of honey and treetops and all which I hope will remain infinite on this journey of life and for everything that is yes.

 

 

 

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It is, after all, Fall!

The brilliant display of October’s leafy madness has begun with the vibrant yellows and reds and browns taking center stage in what I sometimes refer to as the long goodbye. While I am not about to say a long goodbye, I am going to tell you a news breaking story; perhaps one that will take your mind, for a few moments, off of all the noise of breaking political news.

Those yellows and reds and browns are starting to fall in earnest. From the eyebrow window in our bedroom, where I am currently at rest, I can see the enormous leaves of the sycamore tree floating down. Sometimes, they startle me, resembling brown birds so close to the window. Actually, the don’t get all that close, which is best. A very large spider’s web hangs in a perfectly knit vintage pattern just underneath the brow of the window.

All I can do now is watch the leaves fall, so, I might as well watch them perched on high, for I will not be shuffling through leaves this year.

I have gotten ahead of myself, so, please let me begin again, which takes me to late this past Monday afternoon; a perfect time just between dusk and dinner for clearing away the mass of sycamore leaves that have been carpeting the deck.

With rake in hand and a feel-good mood at being outdoors and accomplishing a much-needed task, I raked away leaves, many of which are as large as a grown man’s hand. I moved still blooming pots around, gathering leaves that had settled in corners and nooks. Really, our deck in Autumn is like an English muffin with more nooks and crannies than one can imagine.

The leaves formed their own pile on top of the deck as I hauled a bushel basket full of plant matter to the compost pile, along with kitchen scraps and all things organic. The pile of leaves would be shoveled down the deck stairs and onto a tarp, then hauled back to top off the compost.

On my final ascent up the small flight of stairs, I slipped. It happened so quickly and without preamble that I stumbled backward . I knew, as soon as I hit the ground, just two steps below, that this was not going to end well. I let out an involuntary primal scream as I came down hard. My head hit the ground, but, I fortunately – very fortunately – landed on a pillow of leaves. Those leaves saved me from a head injury.

I felt for my phone to call Tom for help, instinctively knowing that my left foot was twisted and I would need help getting up. Tom, however, heard my scream from up in his office in the barn. Before I could tell Siri to call Tom, he was rushing toward me. He gentled me into a sitting position on the erstwhile steps and we attempted to take measure of the damage, pulling a sycamore leaf out of my hair!

I was shaking like a leaf!

Aside from a bruised elbow, all moving parts were flexible, but, my left ankle was already swelling and hurt like the Dickens. We iced it and nursed it through the night, then decided it would be wise to go to the Emergency Room in the morning.

As I sat on the gurney in the ER, ex-rays completed, waiting for Tom to return to my side and for a doctor to see me, I thought I might as well check my cell phone for messages. Good thing I did, for there was one that had me laughing out loud. There, on my little smart screen, was a message. This message in my inbox was from the very same hospital I was being treated at. It was an invitation – for me – encouraging me to participate in an upcoming marathon run!

A nurse, walking by, looked in. I guess my laugh was way-out loud and not common, of course, in the ER. Those of you who know me know I would be the last person running a marathon, and the humor of the message’s timing was . . . well, let’s just leave it right here.

I have a small break in my foot. I am in cast and using a walker. I am, gratefully, not in pain. Well, at least not in foot pain. My legs, my arms, my neck, my hands are holding me up in ways foreign to me and using a walker is a bit of challenge. I am hopeful for a walking cast soon and so very thankful that this is my only injury. I will be fine and I hope you are all well and active and enjoying the emergence of fall or spring, depending on where you live.

So, dear reader, this is the legend of my Autumn fall.

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It is, officially, Autumn; and so begins the long, slow goodbye . . .

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 . . . as the days shorten and the shadows grow longer, the leaves begin their free fall and many of us in a northerly climate begin to turn our thoughts inward as we relish the harvest of the cold crops, the gourds and pumpkins, especially the pumpkins.

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img_0650Illinois is the top producer of pumpkins. Last year was a sad year for pumpkins here in the Prairie State, but, this year – ah, this year looks to be a a good one for those glorious orbs that are traditionally orange, but, appearing in other colors and shapes as well.

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We stopped at a local farm stand, The Farm, where I often visit for fresh, local vegetables as well as the flowers they grow and sell. The zinnias have been particularly spectacular this year, and this bouquet caught my eye, but, it was organic tomatoes and pickles that I was after this day. I’ll be back soon for a bouquet – and I think I will try one of these pumpkins. Goosebumps. Their unique bumps are rather wart-like and the color and name are intriguing. I’m sure one will lighten up our little corner of earth here along the Cutoff.

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A little Emily

DSCN5923Poem 28. Autumn

The morns are meeker than they were,
The nuts are getting brown;
The berry’s cheek is plumper,
The rose is out of town.
The maple wears a gayer scarf,
The field a scarlet gown.
Lest I should be old-fashioned,
I’ll put a trinket on.

Emily Dickinson

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Come said the wind to
the leaves one day,
Come o’re the meadows
and we will play.
Put on your dresses
scarlet and gold,
For summer is gone
and the days grow cold.  

 A children’s song of the 1880’s

The days are closing in now, here on the Cutoff. The air is crisp, the colors sharp. Leaves carpet the ground, stuff the eaves, and decorate the tops of cars as the trees bare their souls in anticipation for the winter to come.

We have days of heat and humidity still, but, more  and more days of refreshing, cooler temperatures. The night air carries brisk breezes as the crickets correspond in the moonlight and the frogs keep up their low, liquid stream of primal conversations.

The other day, late afternoon, as dinner warmed in the oven,  I spent an hour attending to potted plants that were spent of their summer splendor, sweeping leaves off the deck.The leaves, dear friend, filled a large trash can and end up in the compost pile. The deck looked neat and welcoming as we sat down to dinner inside. As we ate, we could hear the wind kick up. A pot was blown over, the trees scraped the air and anything else in their way. A few, caught in filaments of spider webs,  flitted like butterflies as the temperature fell a good 20 degrees in about as many minutes.

As to the deck, well, it looks like it did – before I cleaned it.

Lamps and overhead lights come on earlier as darkness creeps in sooner each day. It is a time for candles and hot cider, soups and corn bread. It is, after all, sweet Autumn.

I love the changes in colors and the mellowing of the landscape that evolves in this season. There is a heady fragrance that permeates the air.  Just yesterday, I kept telling my Tom that I was smelling maple syrup. I am wondering now if it isn’t the coverlet of sycamore leaves that are bunched up after their night of tossing and turning just outside of the back door. The leaves have a faint maple scent. Oh, dear; I now have a craving for waffles, made in my mother’s waffle maker; an even more aged antique than me.

Such it is with Autumn and me; we seem to have a relationship that conjures up memories and heightens senses as it kisses me with all her splendor.

Do you enjoy Autumn? Do you have a favorite season? For those of you where spring is coming, how are your days and nights?

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Have I told you I love Autumn?

Though awakening in darkness is still taking some getting-used-to and the early end of sunlight at day’s end quickens my steps, I still love Autumn.

The crunch of leaves. The surprise of rosehips on the vine.  The sweet smell of apples.The luster of candles glowing through a window warms my soul and  has me leafing through Frost and Thoreau these last days of Autumn.

The fallen leaves still languish in assorted hues and textures on the lawn and in the flower beds, where perennials are spent and pleading for mercy – a hard task to toil when annuals are still blooming and a killing frost is yet to arrive.

It has been a strange fall, much like our past spring and summer. By now, there are usually hedgerows of leaves up and down our road; a sight to behold, I can assure you. Instead, we’ve still some green left on the trees and the magic of asters and mums still give us pleasure. We will surely be out in winter coats and stocking caps raking frosty leaves if we don’t get to them soon.

For now, however, I think I’ll light a candle and open the Stillwater Sampler by Gladys Taber. This latest addition to my Taber collection unexpectedly jumped into my hands the other day while browsing in my favorite little book booth at Jackson Square Mall. Yes, I’ll languish a bit more, like the leaves on the lawn, over the last of Autumn.

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Warm days and cool nights have created a blaze of Autumn color here on the Cutoff. The sun catching the yellows and reds of the maples is a sight to behold. Nature’s palette in Autumn is my favorite. The rust colored sweaters, brown slacks, and pumpkin hued jackets have replaced the green and yellow tees of summer. I resemble the Great Pumpkin of Charlie Brown fame. Such is life.

Yesterday, I had an eye doctor appointment necessitating both eyes being dilated. I knew one would be, but not both, and was left the blurry task of driving myself home. Squinting behind dark sunglasses midafternoon was a bit of challenge, but, I made it, safe and sound, and rested my eyes for a bit. It is always good to be home, isn’t it?  My gift for persevering on the longish ride was the most amazing color display along the way, even if it was a tad fuzzy and impressionistic.

What does nature’s palette look like in your world today?

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It was one of those September days that makes one’s heart sing and one’s hands extend forward to welcome in Autumn.

The temperatures hovered around 70° Farenheit, the wind danced and made shadows with the sun, and the crisp call of fall was noticeably sitting in the wings.

There was the sweet potato vine, reaching for the corner of the house,

and the oak leaf hydrangea, just starting to turn red; a hint of what is to come,

while the setting rays of the shifting sun sent shadows against the wall.

It brought to mind the lines of an old song and Frank Sinatra: fairy tales do come true, they can happen to you, if you are young at heart.      www.youtube.com/watch?v=bslSxYwgwlE

I hope nature brings you weather to enjoy today, dear friends. I’ll be off line for a few days. See you soon.

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A change in the air

The spiders are already spinning their webs, attaching their long strands of sticky silk to anything and everything, usually at about the level of my eyes. We walk into their almost invisible threads going out the door, to the car, across the deck, and through the arbor. There was one today, very neatly attached to the back of a chair on the deck. From there, it reached across to the morning glories, where it caressed a tendril. I sure wish I’d seen it before I started watering. I’m still picking it out of my hair! It could have been worse. I could have been talking.

The tree frogs and locusts are still making their presence known, humming through the afternoon and long into the night. The crickets have joined them. The string section of nature’s orchestra. Every year, for as long as I can remember, one cricket always manages to get into the house. It is part of the ritual of fall – finding out where the cricket is hiding so one can finally get to sleep.

Three bold and magnificent bucks have been appearing in the early evenings. Their antlers are magnificent. They are busy courting the ladies, who aren’t as attentive to the little ones these days. Pulling out of drive around noon, we noticed three fawn having recess in the front yard. At first, one looked like he was shedding, which didn’t make sense. The little rascal was covered in freshly mown grass. He looked quite like a child caught with his hands in the cookie jar.

The sun seems to glance at us at a different angle. The days are growing shorter. We will still have some hot days, but,  cooler weather has settled for a spell. The robins aren’t as noticeable, but a trio of fledgling orioles were entertaining me the other day out the library window. They were hopping about, eating something off of the Rose of Sharon. I’ve never seen them before this time of year.

A change is in the air. It is subtle, but, there, and seems to have come a tad early this year. The first of the leaves are starting to fall. Soon, the lawn will be carpeted with Autumn’s harvest of leaves. I won’t rush it, for there will work to do in the raking and hauling and shredding. I won’t rush it. Instead I’ll watch the butterflies float and the bees go about making honey, and I’ll sit for a spell, here and there, through my day, like this moth I caught napping on the native asters.

Are you noticing any signs of the seasons changing where you live?

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