THE LUCK BUSH

 

The arbor room is shaggy with overgrowth, and is slow to give up any of it---still jungly green, shady and with a chill deeper than any part of the yard.  The Summer Shade of the place is welcome and langourous, but the scant sun-peeps through this Autumn overhang leave it cold and not as inviting.    The floor is covered in brown, with very little of the outside golds and oranges making their way into the sanctum, and the chimes scarcely sing.    Even the wooden chairs have darkened, and the cheery yellow of the brick floor is subdued beneath the drifts.

But there are lovely vistas to be had---whole palettes of warmth and glow.   You could just sip these scenes like hot cider.

 Our back-door Luck Bush is doing her ruby-red thing right now, turning in her Summer-green gown for a red-velvety number which could grace any number of Fall parties---especially the one being thrown all over the neighborhood about now.   And we had, and still have, a sweet little ceremony which accompanies each departing guest and family member.  Keirsten started the custom, way back in the early 00's, when they lived with us for a time.  

Whenever anyone, family or guest, headed for a vehicle to leave, one of us outdoors would go to the bush, grabbing a leaf and handing it in through the window.   Every car Chris ever drove had an ever-crisping pile of little Luck Leaves wisping their way into crumbs in the console and ashtray, for Sweetpea took up the torch and kept him supplied with one per exit, every day that she was here.    And we'd hand her one, as she left us in the afternoon. 

The sitting-room windows are shaded in green in Spring and Summer, hazing into a rosy glow as the Autumn changes come.   The changing shade and the carrying on of a sweet little tradition---handing out Good Luck and Traveling Grace in the form of greenery or reddery from grubby little hands---those are family things, our own things, which make this Home.   And every time a Luck Leaf goes into a departing hand, my heart goes with it.

THAT SOUND

 

A little drift away from the drifts of leaves, to waft back into the past---those long-ago times, far-ago memories.   Those of you who know me from BEFORE know that we catered and arranged decades'-worth of weddings when we lived in Mississippi, and I have spoken of that many times on here.   Just this morning, I was captivated by the reminiscence of a Mississippi uncle, as he "Gave the Bride Away," in one of those beautiful ceremonies.   His recollection and his words are simply music, evocative of such a swell of pride and hope and amazement that I asked if I could share.   I DID share in that moment he's describing, probably a hundred times during those years, and his words are spot on---they cause an intake of breath to match the quiver of the air, the silent awe, and the sheer beauty of that moment in Time.  

"Once all the attendants were in place, the rear doors of the sanctuary were closed in preparation for the arrival of the bride. Our clue to be ready to process proudly down the aisle was the organist and pianist playing "Holy, Holy, Holy." As the rear doors to the north center section of the sanctuary were opened and guests rose to their feet, Felicia and I began our walk. Trent got two pictures of us within our first few steps, though I barely remember him being there.

There's a sound generated by hundreds of people moving, almost in unison, from a seated to a standing position that's hard to describe. It includes the rustling of cloth rubbing against cloth, of air being sucked into open mouths and nostrils, of feet moving as people turn to face the bride, and of soft whispers of those unable to contain their joy. When the doors opened, it felt as if that sound were being pulled into corridor where we stood. We were bathed in that unique and wonderful sound, while it resonated with the music from the same sanctuary. No doubt, it was the sound of love." WAYNE CARTER, FACEBOOK, OCTOBER 9, 2023

And I simply had to answer," OH, Wayne, Your words and memories put me right there---those days of a hundred weddings---you know me---the lady barely there, with the gentle touch between your shoulder blades as the music swelled and it was time to step out with the bride? I stood in countless vestibules, side rooms, Sunday School rooms, Sanctuary alcoves and hallways, sending down a rustle of bridesmaids, the small feet and flowers of the tiniest attendants, and my touch onto the gabardine seemed to kindle that sacred sound as they rose in honor of the Bride. And you've captured The Sound perfectly. Something about that micro-moment of hesitance, that sway of pews, that rising of the air and stir of attention---that's a moment in the time of a marriage on which everything before and after is balanced pinpoint in Time. Young folks still inquire about the secrets of such a happy marriage as Chris and mine---I realize now that I spent countless moments, unsuspecting years, seeing other folks down the aisle, absorbing the magical mysteries of That Sound, waiting for him to come into my life. 

HAPPY OCTOBER

 

FROM AN OCTOBER POST THIRTEEN AGO, AND THE LIST HAS ONLY GROWN LONGER:

October gave a party,
The leaves by hundreds came;
The Chestnuts, Oaks, and Maples,
And leaves of every name.

The Sunshine spread a carpet
And everything was grand;
Miss Weather led the dancing,
Professor Wind the band.
-----------------George Cooper

I’ve always thought that the year should start in October instead of January. January just grabs ahold of you in an icy grip, keeping you befuddled with the aftermaths of the holidays and all that work and cooking and traveling and celebrating. January is a Pipsissewah of a month, a cold-in-the-head, car-won’t-start time of year, with grumpy people with their heads down struggling against wind and umbrella and ice, the mere feat of standing erect on skiddish streets a burden and a task.


But OCTOBER, now---October is just the best time of year there is, with the golden days and the whish of leaves and the turnings, turnings. The leaves turn and the birds turn South and the time turns from shorts and sandals to comfortable sweats and that favorite old sweater, taken out for the first time in two seasons, snugged on in a cool twilight, as the savory scent of something-in-the-oven wafts out in welcome.

Just walking around outside is a marvel---the air feels silky on your skin and the sun lights gently upon your hair, with a different scent, a different FEEL to everything---better and better as the season progresses. The sight of the harvesting, the change in the produce of the markets, the farmstands offering the crisp fruits and the cider and the huge orange bulk of pumpkns and gourds---we just went to one today, picking out two more cushion-mums, a loaf of wheat bread, six apples, and a watermelon-green-striped gourd like a bashful goose.

Somewhere a long time ago, I read a quote something like, “If I have but one month left to live, let it be October.” I would echo that---it’s always been my favorite time of year, with the air and the light and the rustle of leaves and just the OCTOBERNESS of it. Not because it’s cooler after the summer heat (which is important), not because it ushers in the Holiday Season (also a good thing), and not because of anything in particular which happens or has happened then (though we DO like Halloween).

That’s not it. The month has a personality of its own; it stands on its own, unlike any other time, and I’d know it with my eyes closed. There’s a huge daily enjoyment to the month, with all the sheer exuberance of the color and the brightness---you can just BE in the moments of it, and just enjoy. A simple walk around the neighborhood takes on a different slant---swishing your feet through the leaves, or seeing the swirls of leaves as they drift down like snow, or admiring the Autumn blooms and decorations on the neighbors’ houses and lawns.

Things to do the first few days of October:

Bake cookies with Sweetpea.  (Note from today---we celebrated our three birthdays on Sunday with a fabulous "cake" of cheesecake brownies, baked by HERSELF).  

Go to Waterman’s Farm to climb the haybales, go through the cornstalk maze, and ride the hayride to the pumpkin patches.

Bake a Bundt cake---a beautiful golden-yellow one, fragrant with vanilla and cinnamon.

Decorate for FALL around all this PINK that has invaded the house during all that Home-Staying time with access to ETSY and AMAZON.  

Simmer this beautiful Corned Beef for several hours in its tangy brine, then add in carrots, baby potatoes and wedges of tender cabbage---serve just at twilight on a cool night. It would be enough just to enjoy aura and the scent all day---there’s a satisfaction and a contemplation to having something savory going for supper, and knowing that it will take time and that things are progressing as they should.

There are lots more, and I’d love to hear YOURS.


HAPPY OCTOBER, EVERYONE!!