Saturday, September 13, 2014

Color me Autumn

Autumn oaks, October 2013
Photo by J. Harrington

Although I didn't see any northern lights last night or the one before, I'm starting to see more and more splashes of color in the local leaves, although the oaks haven't yet turned this much this year. Autumn is my favorite time of year, so I'm not complaining about its arrival. The suddenness of its onset is a different story. What with the damp -- actually, wet -- Spring and early Summer, I haven't yet got anywhere near my fill of sitting in the warm sunshine, drinking coffee, reading and relaxing. I was hoping to build up a reserve to help me through the oncoming Winter. I think the coldest it got here last night was 34°, so no frost yet, but no mid-70s in the forecast either.

The Daughter Person and her fiancee are getting married in a couple of weeks. I'm hoping early onset Autumn doesn't mean there will be snow on the ground by then. Even for Minnesota, with our Halloween Blizzard, early October snow would be out of character. Frost on the pumpkins at this time of year is fine. Snow, not so much.

pumpkins, October 2013
Photo by J. Harrington

I'm going to check the pear tree this weekend to see if the pears are ready for picking. If we have any "excess," it will go to the Wildlife Science Center to help feed their 10 bears. I knew bears eat a lot, but didn't know they consume 20,000 calories a day to get ready for Winter.

Wildlife Science Center image

Humidity down, hot weather's down, home made bread and soups and stews are up, apples coming in, lots to do. What's not to like about Autumn in Minnesota except what comes next? James Wright captures the magic of the season rather nicely, I think. Don't you?

Beginning

By James Wright 

The moon drops one or two feathers into the field.   
The dark wheat listens.
Be still.
Now.
There they are, the moon's young, trying
Their wings.
Between trees, a slender woman lifts up the lovely shadow
Of her face, and now she steps into the air, now she is gone
Wholly, into the air.
I stand alone by an elder tree, I do not dare breathe
Or move.
I listen.
The wheat leans back toward its own darkness,
And I lean toward mine.


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