There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir;
We must rise and follow her,
When from every hill of flame
She calls and calls each vagabond by name.
Bliss Carman
These days, it takes much longer for the morning dew and haze to lift from the valleys. This farm is across the road and we gladly wait our long turn at the traffic light to drink in the view.
Misty sunrises, dramatic sunsets, clouds in September skies
Nesting for fall
Crafting
Exploring the yard – any beyond
Receiving gifts
Yard cleanup silly
Anticipating October Drama
Ever changing patterns of light and shadow illuminating leaves like jewels.
Feast for the eyes. Calm for the soul.
These hydrangeas spend their summer in cool blue bloom, then change their wardrobe with the season just like magic!
Our trees tend to be a bit monochromatic fading into pale green and gold or just oak brown so I really enjoy the lasting color changing in these plants to compliment them.
We had a glorious drive to a farm stand through fields of grains harvested and fields of soybeans and fields corn still waiting. And although we went for apples, it was the pumpkins and other squash that steal the show with color and form. White, orange, blue, pink…
Pink!
And such shapes to stir imaginations – Cinderella’s pumpkin – ah, for a fairy godmother to touch this one!
Back in our own yard, I find a few soft golden fern fronds.
Sarah Helen Whitman wrote A Still Day in Autumn, it begins –
I love to wander through the woodlands hoary, In the soft light of an autumnal day, When summer gathers up her robes of glory, And, like a dream of beauty, glides away.
And so October ends and the freshness of a new month stretches out before us bringing ever changing days.
I decide to drive through the reservoir on the way home. As I approach the dam, I can see the water spilling down, wave-like. I continue on the winding road and I’m amazed that geese are standing atop the spillway!
I find a place to park, walk back and hear them chattering as geese do. I image them all offering encouragement to each other to stand strong or paddle against the current, but I do have to wonder why, in such a large lake, they are here.
What fun are they experiencing or is this a kind of late afternoon strength training exercise?
There are no answers from them so I move on to my favorite place and into the golden glow.
And I find that the drive and the beauty and the brisk air are strengthening for me today. I hope you have a place to soak in the golden glory of late afternoon sun.
The month was layered…layers of blankets and quilts…sweaters and scarves and caps. Mornings were layered with fogs and mists that gave way in wisps to show sparkly carpets of frosted grass and leaf in rising sun over fields and woodland. And oakleaf hydrangeas wear frost in elegance on their now colorful leaves.
Trees are more defined in November, dark trunks and branches against evergreen and the late color of red maple and coppery blueberry and golden viburnum glow in the afternoon light, like layers of a masterful painting.
There are layers too of bird chatter as snowbirds and wrens scuffle around in mulch and dried leaves near the door while finches perch for fresh water and all kinds of birds cling to the feeders surveyed by chattering, fat, furry squirrels while flashes of cardinal and bluejay brighten the yard.
My thoughts are all layers too, stuff and plans, memories and dreamings… some shrouded in frost or cloud, some bathed in sunlight or moonlight. But always as I survey my small piece of world, I look to see through the layers, to really see, and to be grateful, giving thanks for all that I have been given in this life.
So much storm preparedness going on all around as forecasters warnings are relentless.
It seems so much more than a week since we visited the Queen City of the Alleghenies and drove through wonderful mountains and valleys and stayed in The Castle. I want to remember the glory of that autumn time.
We were on an adventure to find past and give past, and we did. As always, we loved the drive and this time the autumn color added to the beauty of the journey.
I couldn’t get enough of looking through the beautiful old glass of the windows of The Castle. In the night, as wailing sirens echoed through the river valley, I gazed through arched windows at stars rarely seen at home. And I gave thanks for those who heed the call to serve in crisis.
And now, looking into the face of this storm, we pray for safety for those who are serving and will be serving all along the Eastern Seaboard.
I have always loved the cadence and the imagry of George Cooper’s October’s Party.
“October gave a party;
The leaves by hundred’s came…
Then, in a rustic hollow,
At hide and seek they played,
The party closed at sundown,
And everybody stayed.
Professor Wind played louder;
They flew along the ground;
And then the party ended
In jolly “hands around.””
After a night of wind, I walk about crunching leaves underfoot; finding the treasures of the day. The herb and vegetable gardens are ready for their winter resting but I’ve work to do yet in the flower beds. But I dawdle, winding down from summer as if I too had been to some grand party and I want only to re-live the joy and conversation of it.
Storms turned the skies to September blue, hostas turned gold, the burning bush flamed, cleomes burst seed and the last of the blue hydrangeas changed to rosey attire.
Some seasons of life I’ve enjoyed the life of a night owl, but I’ve come back to treasuring early time. So I search and photograph and go back into the cozy warmth of kitchen only to be drawn out again knowing the wonder of early light is happening. Moving my chair to face the east where cloud play is illuminated in the rising sun, I huddle into an old quilt with my mug of coffee. And watch. I hear the traffic hum of those on the go and I begin to hear hammering and saws nearby. Work calls but I stay listening to quiet bird calls beginning to sound through the yards.
I lower my eyes to write and suddenly feel like there is a disco ball in the yard! The aspen leaves wave their quivering morning excitement filtering and shattering the light into sparkling pieces as the sun rises through them and the birds sing applause now. The coffee chills but I still sit and wonder why I am not here every morning when dawn calls hope and promise for the day.
With hot coffee, I return to find my quilt like stained glass. A breeze stirs now and the sound of leaves dancing close fills my ears and I huddle again into the quilt and move my chair into the expanding warmth of the ever rising sun. All too soon these days pass and the exuberance of October is upon us!
