Time to chill out!

Only a few days left in September. There was a skim of ice on the bird bath this morning. Frost covered the low spot in the back yard and most everywhere else in sight too. That should be it for local frost advisories for the next ten days and maybe more. I’d rather cope with intermittently covering the plants than cleaning up after a hurricane. One of the nice things about Minnesota is that very few hurricanes reach us.

bird bath with ice cover

Photo by J. Harrington

We took a drive today to do some errands and can confirm that the MNDNR Fall Color Finder map is accurate, although  we’d lean toward the lower end of their 10% - 25% peak color estimate around here. Most of the oaks are still very green. Maples, sumacs and others are showing more color by the day.

This morning’s predawn dog walk reminded me of just how cold it’s likely to get four or five months from now. But, before that happens we get to enjoy Samhain / Halloween; Thanksgiving; and, Solstice / Christmas. I’ve not yet tackled the 72 seasons a year we mentioned awhile back, but neither have I forgotten about it. Maybe we’ll save that up for an upcoming snow day!

Leaves

Lloyd Schwartz - 1941-

                        1 

Every October it becomes important, no, necessary
to see the leaves turning, to be surrounded
by leaves turning; it's not just the symbolism,
to confront in the death of the year your death,
one blazing farewell appearance, though the irony 
isn't lost on you that nature is most seductive
when it's about to die, flaunting the dazzle of its 
incipient exit, an ending that at least so far 
the effects of human progress (pollution, acid rain)
have not yet frightened you enough to make you believe
is real; that is, you know this ending is a deception
because of course nature is always renewing itself—
        the trees don't die, they just pretend,
        go out in style, and return in style: a new style.





                        2 

Is it deliberate how far they make you go
especially if you live in the city to get far 
enough away from home to see not just trees 
but only trees? The boring highways, roadsigns, high 
speeds, 10-axle trucks passing you as if they were 
in an even greater hurry than you to look at leaves:
so you drive in terror for literal hours and it looks 
like rain, or snow, but it's probably just clouds
(too cloudy to see any color?) and you wonder, 
given the poverty of your memory, which road had the 
most color last year, but it doesn't matter since 
you're probably too late anyway, or too early—
        whichever road you take will be the wrong one
        and you've probably come all this way for nothing.






                        3 

You'll be driving along depressed when suddenly
a cloud will move and the sun will muscle through
and ignite the hills. It may not last. Probably
won't last. But for a moment the whole world
comes to. Wakes up. Proves it lives. It lives—
red, yellow, orange, brown, russet, ocher, vermilion,
gold. Flame and rust. Flame and rust, the permutations
of burning. You're on fire. Your eyes are on fire.
It won't last, you don't want it to last. You 
can't stand any more. But you don't want it to stop. 
It's what you've come for. It's what you'll
come back for. It won't stay with you, but you'll 
        remember that it felt like nothing else you've felt
        or something you've felt that also didn't last.

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Please be kind to each other while you can.