|“My sorrow, when she's here with me, thinks these dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be; she loves the bare, the withered tree; she walks the sodden pasture lane.”|
The time has come to write again. It is daunting. Some mental muscle stretches with resistance. The resistance triggers old tapes that play a tiresome haunt: who is suppose to write in the family and who should not do so. A defense begins to mount ~ this is a blog after all not a vetted scientific publication or some such thing. Then it occurs in some dim recess of my mind that most of my life 'projects' begin in Autumn. The Fall has a unique killing beauty that draws one's attention. "Resistance is futile."
"Autumn is a second Spring where every leaf is just a flower"
~ Albert Camus
Okay, I'm holding on to that thought...the 'second Spring'. Summer is a blur. One that was filled with pain, surgery and recovery. Time to move on with life. Time to observe that some trees are bare here and other tenaciously hold their leafs. Certainly all the trees in my yard, those frisky wooden devils, (six in count) are holding on to their leafs. The household has a gardening service but they "don't do leafs". I can see myself, the electric leaf blower and trusty rake in the crisp and RAINY weather that is November...raking leafs on a weekend that was meant for an adventure. Makes me wish my dogs had apposable thumbs so they could be conscripted into yard service. Surely a smart Lab could learn to rake? When my internal whine gets too loud, as it is now, I remember to ask 'would you rather rake leafs or be frantically stacking wood against the on-coming New England winter'. Dang, I have to vote for raking leafs in the Northwest. The pity party is forced to close.
"But I remember more dearly Autumn afternoons in bottoms that lay intensely silent under old great trees." ~ C.S. Lewis
Lying 'under old great trees' would have happened in my much younger years. Some where between Utah and New England. The past is the past and I prefer to not wander there often. Today the past whispers in my ear...asking for a visit. I remember Provo canyon, the whisper of wind in the pines, nature's patch work quilt on the mountain side and I remember that cold weather meant a kid could wander without having to listen for rattlesnakes. But then the deer hunters would be in the woods...a danger of a different kind. Ah Autumn you are a frisky visitor.
"Autumn, the year's last loveliest smile."
~ Wm. Cullen Bryant
Time to shake off the reverie, lace up and go to the gym and then head out to finally get some new photos. There is much chatter here about it being an "El Nina" year. What does it mean to a transplanted neo-New Englander? Are they meaning six feet of snow and 40 below temps? The Subaru sits in the garage willing and able to drive over six inches of unplowed snow. Still have an emergency kit for the car. I'll see what needs to be stocked for the house. But six cords of wood ... not on the agenda! This Autumn, El Nina or not, can be viewed with deep appreciation. Time is on the march ~ up and out of the house.