sleepless

it's a dark and stormy night and i can't sleep with the driving wind and the sound of rain battering the window beside the bed. i listen to the stove beep off and back on several times, a sign that power may soon go out, and i get up to draw some water into the kettle so it will be there in the morning for coffee. out the window, the wind bends the lilac and blows leaves horizontally, a sure end to foliage season.

i light a beeswax votive, contemplate and quickly dismiss the idea of a cup of tea at this late hour, and i settle into the wingback chair to try to read a little. the quilt around my bare feet soon warms me and my head sinks into the left hand wing where it always rests now when i read. this is gladys taber, a writer from another era who lived by the sea. her writing reminds me of my mother and her mother before her, and of quieter, simpler times in our world. eventually, as they always do, her words bring me to a calm and peaceful place, far from the night's raging storm and far from the storms that have raged for years. and i blow out the candle, lest i fall asleep sitting right there.

autumn

in my defense, fall this year stretched for month after glorious month, with warm days and brilliant nights, and i was away from my desk and outside as much as was possible. in september and october, the foliage was blindingly beautiful. i spent so much time stopping and marvelling at the incredible show of color new england had this year, that i didn't take any photos, save the few you see here. i knew my skills could never do justice to the beauty i was seeing with my eyes, so i didn't even try. and, now that it's gone, i don't even think i'm sorry i did that.

the other thing: as much as i adore fall, i was dreading the thoughts that winter was coming next. last winter must have taken a toll on me, one who always loved the beauty of the season. it was just too cold, too snowy, and much too long. so when autumn continued into a bright and clear november, and then morphed into a balmy, dry december, i wanted to take advantage of every outdoor moment i could. i put on my blaze orange scarf and strolled into the woods during hunting season. i drove with the window down. i painted and stained and polyurethaned. i sat outside til dusk and read. i stood in the yard and gawked at the night sky. and i reveled in the fact that i could wear a denim jacket and sneakers instead of wool coats and boots.

as i write this, we are anticipating our first significant snowfall. our brown christmas is just over, january approaches, and it's okay for snow now, i think. i just hope it's not as much as last year. 

thanksgiving, very late.

this week, i've been away, at an event connecting with former colleagues and distant friends. a few folks pointed out that i'd made no mention of thanksgiving here and they are right. this is the closest i'll get - to the photo i uploaded, then forgot about...packing away all things fall before i left, so i'd be free to bring on christmas when i returned. 

the older i get, the more thanksgiving becomes my favorite holiday. it's about family and gratitude, a quiet pause before changing seasons. this year, it was an especially emotional one for me and i'm not sure why. i missed my parents, gone now for many years, more than i usually do. as the little girl and i shared our traditional thanksgiving preparations, i found myself so aware of the fact that she's growing up too quickly for me and our special times are likely to change in the next years. later i watched in awe and admiration as friends and neighbors lost power in an awful snowstorm, drove for hours on horrible roads to be with their loved ones, and found celebratory ways to give thanks anyway. i laid awake at night and wondered why i've been so damned lucky my whole life. 

and on a brighter note, i sprung for a fresh turkey. i brined it. and it was fantastic. 

now, brown

driving the long way last evening, marvelling at the browns and russets and golds of the late october landscape. more rain, wind, and cold will drop these remaining leaves to the ground very soon. right now, though, late fall is still distracting enough to make me pull over to the side of the road for a while.

autumn 2014: postscript

red sunrise early this morning confirms what the forecast says: storms are coming and it's going to rain. this rain will quickly end our foliage season for good.

already, the end has begun, though. driving the back roads, leaves surge wildly through the air as the car passes through tunnels of trees. when i walk in the morning, i try to catch one before it hits the ground - for good luck, as told to me by savvy six year-olds. there have been several half-hearted attempts at raking, mostly just to make piles to jump into, throwing leaves into the air, and shrieking. but the heavy duty raking will be next weekend, after this rain, after all the maple and oak and birch leaves are down and the trees are winter bare.

my newest interesting word: abscission. the botanical term for leaves and other parts falling from a plant. it's what happens to deciduous trees in the fall. who knew there was such a fancy word for such a bittersweet ending?

red

found on the walk this morning, lots of reds all around...

with more to come as fall commences. 

in the yard

took a twilight stroll around the perimeter of the yard, noticing differences now that the seasons are shifting. in the compost pile, the tiniest of mum plants is budding and has a single autumn-red blossom.

and who made off with the nuts that were attached to this cluster of acorn caps?

the long way home

this afternoon, on my way to a neighboring town, i wandered the back roads because the day and the surroundings were so beautiful. for the return, i had planned to take the highway, because it's a quick trip. but i found myself again drawn to the splendor of the winding road. i can take the highway later, when the landscape is all barren and gray.

damp & dreary

big plans, fun plans, for the weekend and i've been so anxious to be outside with the camera. but it looks like even more rain is in store. here's hoping skies will be overcast and showers just intermittent.