The Tellin’ Tree two doors down is flaunting her sun-kissed rosy cheeks for the past few days, letting us know that FALL is approaching with these even-cooler days and nights. She's always the first to blush, the first to swirl down her leaves, the first one we head for to scuff our feet through the piles on the sidewalk.
September was absolutely glorious, with all the sun-filled days, the cloudless blue stretching overhead with nary a thought of gray, and the temperatures just begging us to be out and about.
The sounds outside during this dry, cool time have been of slow-breeze drifts of leaves, just beginning to do their earthward dance, settling onto the arid crispness of already-sere lawns and skittering down the drive and sidewalks toward the unabashed ivy, green as always, wending its way across the lawn at a yard’s pace a year. It’s still all green in the yard, but of a subtler, more subdued hue, with a lot of yellow to the mix, especially in the rampant grapevine stretching from house to garage to outbuildings to trees. I swear, that stuff is really a strain of kudzu, transported up here on our shoes or tire-treads, covering our landscape like an abandoned homestead in the South---those old silver-gray buildings, bushes, long-chuttered-their-last John Deeres gone to rust---all engulfed in the green tide until the whole landscape is like one of those baby-toys made of soft fabric, with the little farm buildings and trees and fields just gentle lumps on the landscape.
There’s a comfort to the changes of Fall---a settling-in, a tamping-down, as if the energy of all that Spring and Summer growth and activity has smoothed into completion with the changing of the moon. There’s no more grabbing of towels and sunblock in a rush to head for the pool, or great need to keep the flowerbed weeds at bay, or the nudge to pick whatever’s overgrowing the garden. That season’s winding down so fast now that I can kindle only a faint wish to go some weekend in search of a pink pumpkin, a gallon of cider, a great bouquet of colourful dried corn and shucks for the porch.
But today’s the long-awaited DAY. October’s officially here, and the calendar has ticked into FALL. I just settle in every year, with a little putting out of Orange, or a swag of bright leaves over the door, and the days just fly past. I find myself three days before Christmas, with so much undone, unmade, unsaid, and wishwishwish it were October again.
And I swear, this year, I’m gonna make the most of it. Out and about to enjoy the weather and the colours, wonderful scents of something in the oven, lovely pots of soup and stew, pans of fragrant bread and pie. I vow to use it up, drink it in---rather than wishing it back.