Autumn storms are hard at work removing the colorful apparel that the trees wear. Their stunning golden-tinged shimmering haze of colorful leaves are falling and creating a brilliant carpet at their feet, giving way to the dark skeletons of branches and bare trunks. I’m not ready to say goodbye to the revitalized colors of the garden and the glowing golden fields just yet.
I’ve gotten used to seeing the reflected coral haze make its way through my window as the morning sun sets the tall maple tree all aglow each day. To in love with the yellow gingko leaves smothering the white bird house before they suddenly fall in one fell swoop in days to come leaving it naked. I’m thrilled by the high contrast against the burgundy spears of the Japanese maple that is setting off the new pink tones in the limelight hydrangea.
I’m not ready to wish the beautiful sunny days and lovely it’s warm enough to sit on the front porch in just a sweater time away. Where I sit and watch the sun peek through the fading foliage of the climbing rose, and dip below the horizon when the chill sends us inside.
But it’s not up to me….
I’m lingering near the vegetable garden watching the cabbage turn another shade of glaucous blue with the chill because I am loath to pull them out just yet and I”m foolishly playing chicken with the frost, hoping that I won’t be the first to blink and cry when they are split with the cold.
My first time as a cabbage grower ended up gifting me with more holes than leaves, but one head of the tasty balls has already been turned into homemade sauerkraut using some great recipes from these guys.
The only lament from this organic gardener is that I know of no way to keep the caterpillars off of them.
The teetering cosmos spill over the edges of the raised garden bed heavily manured by the neighbor’s cats and now given over to flowers only. Their translucent paper white petals mingled among brilliant fuschia colored blooms tip and totter in the slightest breeze and are still setting their seeds, so I’m not ready to say goodbye to them…just yet.
But the choice isn’t mine….
And dancing dahlias
Even the dollar store Dahlia is finally dancing after ignoring the invitations from the summer heat and has decided to show up for the party late and bloom. The frost warnings worry me, it’s too soon, I’ve not had time to say goodbye for the year. And who wants to cut the only bloom of the season just to watch it wither and fade inside.
The camera, the cat, and I spend as much time in the garden as we can collecting feathers shed by soon to leave birds, capturing dew drops left on fallen leaves, absorb the warmth of the sun. The winter days of darkness lightened by unending snowfalls and cracking branches are far from now, the here, the now, the moment of living in it.
We want to live within the confines of the small areas of sunlight and escape the shady clutches of the giant fir trees in the low lying light.
To cloak ourselves in the peace of the quiet moments while standing just beyond the reach of the wet glistening grass. To hum in tune with the chirps, and rustles of the quail as they wait for their turn in the sun.
Lamenting will do us no good, the cat doesn’t understand the changes of the seasons he only seeks the warmth, the camera doesn’t care, so that leaves me to say that I am not ready to see it go just yet.
Jen @ The Light Laughed
A note on last week’s post:
The once insurmountable hill from last week joy riding post, long, lean stretching up ahead of the curve taunting me that I couldn’t bike it without stopping to dismount and walk most of it….well, I’ve conquered it peddling it all the way up and beyond for miles without stopping.
On the ride back I saw donkeys grazing in the sunlight and shadows of the decrepit barn, and two calves wandering about in someone’s unfenced front yard.
As I clicked away with shots of the calves a dog that had been lurking in the middle of the road ahead decided it would try to scare me off, it was my second run in with dogs that morning, and this one held me prisoner for long minutes that felt like ages.
It wouldn’t allow me to walk my bike past it on the road and I’m sure it’s owners pretended not to notice me yelling at it that I wasn’t doing anything wrong and to let me go [a small worry that they set it on me for taking photos went through my mind, but I’m sure that’s silly].
I’m not one to be scared of dogs, but growling and gnashing of teeth near your ankles makes you realize how vulnerable yours are.
So maybe it’s a good thing that the weather will soon change and riding a bike will become more of a brisk winter sport with the chilly breeze ruffling my jacket and seeking a way to freeze me out.
The dogs may have moved by next spring, or become more accustomed to bikers or if not maybe next time I will set the Boo onto them…he’s been known to chase the black lab from next door off of the property when he is in a bad mood.
Have you read about the online magazine called Rural that I mentioned in last weeks post, I was hoping to publish it today, but it still needs a bit of tweaking so it will be coming out soon. Check The Light Laughed facebook page for updates and insider previews. I’m looking forward to showing you the collection of the beautiful words and photos that have been contributed, it just needs a little more work before it’s ready.
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