Fall-ing
Autumn
2016
Scene on October 30, with Pester asleep
Autumn
is my favorite season.
I
welcome the cooling-down, and when a crispness comes to the air.
I
welcome the change in colors, after having green for so long. The
change seems to creep up so slowly, then – BAM! - all at once the
trees have exploded in golds, reds, russets, oranges, as if it all
suddenly caught fire.
October 18 - marigolds and pineapple sage in bloom, but otherwise still a lot of green
October 30
October 18 - Tulip Poplar changing color
October 30 - Tulip Poplar losing leaves
I
welcome the more acute slant of sunlight, not so harsh, bright and
all-consuming as summer sun, but more restive, almost bittersweet.
Through
my windows I can watch every day the evidence of “falling” at my
home. And, I do watch it, every day.
October 18, with Silas
One
thing I love to do in early autumn is to get the windows clean. Yes,
that's right – I love to wash windows. At this time, it is very
symbolic, cleansing in more ways than one.
October 10 - a kitchen window before cleaning
September 28 - bay window before cleaning
Summer
is my least favorite season, when the heat and humidity argue with my
body all season. The fall window-washing signals an official end to
summer. I start the process when the air is finally cool enough for
me to stand it, but still warm enough for the work.
It
is also a great washing-away of the dirt of summer – all the
piling-up of general dirt, pollen, chaff from farming, scores of the
brittle bodies of dead insects, old gnarly spiderwebs and cobwebs,
and just plain dust. I'm too busy to clean it up often, and it
happens at such a pace that I can't keep up, anyway, so I just let it
go. In early fall, it gives me great satisfaction to sweep a wet,
vinegary cloth over the glass, sweep piles of dead bugs off the sills
and casings, and finally to lemon-oil the woodwork around the
windows.
October 10 - clean kitchen window
September 28 - a clean bay window
(the left window always looks foggy - it has a problem that makes it trap moisture)
The
final satisfaction is the clear view. After a long summer of
haziness, I finally have unobstructed views through the glass.
Instead of an ever slightly foggy scene, everything is clarified and
detailed. This happens just in time, because then everyone can enjoy
the full glory of autumn color through the windows.
As
the colors progressed, so did fall activity.
I
brought in the plants from the colder temperatures that would
threaten them on the screened porch, and arranged them at the bay
window in the kitchen.
October 18 - all but the hanging plants are in - we would have some unseasonable warm weather after this
Our
fields were harvested.
October 18
October 18
Fruit
flies invaded the kitchen in September and wouldn't disappear for a
long time. I had to re-wipe some windows now and then after the tiny
flies left the glass speckled with tiny spots.
October 11
The
fruits of fall appeared as pumpkins, gourds and mums decorated the
porch and the smell of persimmon pudding wafted throughout the house.
October 18 - some sweet potatoes and white potatoes from the garden
October 21
And,
we got ready for Halloween (my favorite time.)
Richard
went up on the roof to do some caulking around the chimney, in
preparation for winter. Here are his feet dangling off the porch
roof.
October 30
A
little later, I went out to hold the wobbly ladder so he could get
down.
Colors
deepened. Some saddened to dry browns and then dropped. The woods
view started to become more open as the wood floor thickened with
layers of leaves.
Late
in the autumn color season, the oaks came into their full auburn
glory.
November 21 - White Oak outside of bedroom window
Oak
leaves hang on much of the winter, even after turning brown, so
eventually our view was that of bare trees with spots of slightly
russet oak leaves, and some slightly golden Sugar Maple hangers-on.
Almost everything had fallen.
And
then came November 8th and 9th.
The
news made my heart feel as if it fell to the floor. I had never felt
this way before. It seemed our whole country had fallen. What was
happening to it all? What did it all mean? How could this be? Will we
ever be able to pick it all up and get moving again, reaching for the
sky and the light as we always, generally, have done?
Everything
felt … so … heavy.
But,
surely we will. It will happen as millions of individuals refuse to
stay down, refuse to be so low, as we remember and feel that rising
of “spring” in ourselves and push for new, fresh growth. It will
happen as we send out millions of new buds and leaves – each a good
thought, meaningful intent, positive action. It will happen as
individuals, and groups of individuals, stretch out in natural
determination.
I
love autumn, and I don't mean to equate it with this other “falling.”
And I adore winter (especially when there is plenty of snow.) I feel
so much better in the cooler weather, and with the awakening edge in
the air. It keeps me aware, active, and engaged.
So,
I am one of those individuals who will keep picking up, moving up and
out, growing, doing what I do better than ever, because now it is
more important than it ever was.
November 5 - with Pester
January
3, 2017
A
new year. The feeders are up again outside the bay window, and the
birds have begun to gather.
