It must be autumn somewhere… not here.
There must be a storm with lightening and thunder
and great silver sheets of rain stripping scarlet and gold
from shivering trees somewhere… not here.
I like what Winter does to mountains and rocks and lakes
when all white and gray it surrounds silent naked trees
somewhere else…
1 comment:
Autumn is here.
Right in my back yard. The pyracantha berries are bright red, just in time for Thanksgiving. The leaves on the trees on my front yard are vibrant and green, pretending that they don't know that in a little over a month they will be falling to the ground in a whoosh. The jade bush in my back yard (which gets more southern/western sun) is already blooming. Its front entry cousins will wait until January.
Autumn is here.
We have already had a pretty significant autumn rain, which unfortunately reminded me that I have a bad leak in my patio roof (thanks to an incompetent contractor). Cardboard boxes have to be moved pronto.
Autumn is here.
Right in my closet, where I am pulling out my warmer shirts and vests, socks and warmer nightwear.
Autumn is here. Right in my kitchen, where I am cooking up a storm of comfort foods--soups and stews, getting ready for my knee replacement on Tuesday.
Autumn is here. Right in my living room. The setting sun is going down in a different place, throwing strange patterns of light through the front door windows onto my living room wall. At first I thought I didn't like that, and thought of painting over those windows. But now, those lively spider-web patterns are my welcome annual visitors of autumn.
Oh, I know what "real autumn" is. I just returned from a trip to NY/Boston, where the hills were a blaze of red. Every turn of the road leading to oohs and aahs. In the Catskills, most of the leaves were down already. No doubt about it. "Real autumn." I just talked with my sister Laura this morning. She is in Concord, "home" in the northeast for her chemotherapy. After over a months of perfect weather, the gray skies have arrived, the bone-chilling rain and wind. "Real autumn."
But I have come to love autumn here. The subtle but noticeable quality of air and light. The dew on my windshield needing to be wiped off. The sun rising in the east shining blinding rays in my eyes when I turn left toward Grossmont College. Very difficult to judge passing that car parked on the right. I'm not sorry this part of autumn does pass.
I am also not sorry that I don't live in a place where "real autumn" becomes "real winter."
See you,
Marla
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