Equinox approaches

It's another rainy day. We may, or may not, get some severe weather this afternoon. The most excitement so far today was triggered by the discovery that one of the neighbor's yaks had wandered loose and was calmly munching the grasses growing in the roadside ditch. We noticed the errant yak as we were headed off to do some errands and notified a neighbor who in turn notified the yak's owner. The beast was nowhere to be seen as we returned so we assume a yak-herder was sent to reclaim the wayward animal.

neighbor's yaks where they belong, behind a fence

Photo by J. Harrington

On our trip out, we next noticed, another half a mile or so down the road, a small herd of four whitetail deer standing on a hillside next to the road. The deer were on the opposite side of the road from the yak. As we passed, they continued uphill and into the woods with no undue incidents. We wonder how the deer, and yak, populations will fare once the town board has its way and our gravel road is paved. Will increased speeds on the part of those just passing through lead to increased fatalities?

late Autumn deer-nibbled pumpkins

Photo by J. Harrington

Yesterday, the Better Half arrived home with four moderate sized pumpkins and a table-top's worth of gourds and small pumpkins. The larger four are now lining the North side of the driveway in approximately the same location that the chrysanthemums are usually placed. In years past, proximity to the house has not deterred deer from nibbling on the decorative pumpkins. In any case, we should now be almost all set to celebrate Autumn Equinox and Halloween, but not necessarily Samhain. If, as forecast, the sun actually returns on Saturday, we think we'll celebrate Equinox with a cup of coffee on the patio of one of our favorite local coffee shops. If it doesn't shine, we'll at least try to not grump very much. Equinox is a good day to try to maintain a balance, right?

In Autumn

Mark Irwin

When within ourselves in autumn we feel the autumn

I become very still, a kind of singing, and try to move

like all things green, in one direction, when within ourselves

the autumn moves, thickening like honey, that light we smear

on faces and hands, then touch the far within one another,

something like autumn, and I think when those who knew

the dead, when they fall asleep,then what, then what in autumn

when I always feel I’m writing in red pencil on a piece

of paper growing in thickness the way a pumpkin does,

traveling at fantastic speed toward orange, toward rot, when

in autumn I remember that we are cold-smitten as I continue

smearing red on this precipice, this ledge of paper over which

I lean, trying to touch those I love, their bodies rusting

as I keep writing, sketching their red hands, faces lusting for green.

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