Saturday, October 15, 2011

October Walks

 The morning moon follows me on my walks these days.  Shy thing.  Hides behind clouds.

Peeks through tree branches.

Disappears for a while.

And then, the reappearing act.

 Here is the path I've been walking again.  Out into the field rather than on the gravel path.  Others are walking there too - it will take a while for it to be clear again.  No one is sure if the coyotes are gone, but they do seem to be.  And it seems a shame not to get out there and ramble.

By the time I begin to make my way home, the sun has eased over the suburban roofs.  It graces lawns and gravel.

Back, among houses, on sidewalks, there are trees of all sorts.  Our particular neighborhood is populated by these (one for each yard planted by the developer/builder when the houses all first went in):

The leaves turn a soft and pale yellow, and there are bright purple (inedible) berries.

They get on the sidewalk and onto the soles of your shoes. Children pelt each other with them.

The leaves won't be with us much longer.

Fall, leaves, fall

Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree.
I shall smile when wreaths of snow
Blossom where the rose should grow;
I shall sing when night’s decay
Ushers in a drearier day.

Will I, too, smile when the snow wreaths the rose bush?  Will I be pleased with drearier days?  Maybe a little.  Best to love where you are if at all possible. And as much as I do dread being so cold, the snow is conducive to writing I find.

Meanwhile, summer is still on my kitchen windowsill.

The flare in the photo on the right seems to be sending a message of love....

Soon, the raucous colours of fall will all seem a blur.  But for now I'm trying to drink them in and hold them close to my heart, as a light in the window.  


  1. The black berry tree is an Elderberry? builders consult a list of native plants and it often comes up, being sturdy for replanting.

  2. Thank you for this taste of Fall for those of us in California. I so miss the month of September in the Hudson River Valley combing through the countryside in search of antiques and Nature's gift of pure beauty.


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