The gardens are harvested, the sprinklers are blown out, and, today, the landscaper cut the grass for the last time this season. We have pulled out tender annual flowers from pots around the house and the hostas look yellow, and more than a little worse for wear, thanks to the cooler temperatures. This morning, Gerry cleaned the furnace filter and we clicked on the heat for the first time.
The trees are wearing their October finery and we haven’t taken an opportunity to go for a drive to capture fall images with our camera. Gerry and I have wondered if we missed the peak again this year and perhaps we have. Lord willing, we will see another early autumn and have an opportunity then. This year is different. They all are, aren’t they? But this one seems especially so.
We’re seeing things in the world I couldn’t have imagined a couple of years ago. I do my best not to focus too much on the insanity and, rather, think about the better things. My mind is a whirlwind these days thinking about things that are new now that Makiya is with us. Good things, but things I haven’t had to consider in the not-to-distant past (like long division, and school lunches, and after-school activities, and bedtimes). It’s better for me, and those in my household, if I remain balanced with my attention on the people in front of me—the ones I love and have a measure of influence in the lives of. That is my better work.
A few months ago, when we were in the midst of the worst of forest fire season and every day seemed smokier than the one before, we were on perpetual high alert. That, on top of the angst of year two of the pandemic. It wore me down. I looked forward to autumn and a fresh start and, while some of that has come to fruition, there is still so much that causes angst—most of which I write about only in my private journal.
Just now, I’m looking outside at our back yard where the freshly-mowed grass (for the last time this year) is still green and the garden is barren. Pots of sunny yellow mums on the deck next to a bright pink mandevilla vine make me smile. I’m toying with the idea of trying to overwinter the vine. Maybe. We’ll see. For now, I enjoy the contrast of it next to the mums.
The sky is blue, the air is blessedly clear, and the temperature is cool but not cold. It’s a beautiful October afternoon. I’ve heard the “s” word spoken on the evening newscast but I think we’re still a ways away from the white stuff around here. One more week, that’s all I ask, at least until we get Laurinda moved down from the north in ten days.
I’m still working on finding a new routine—hence, my showing up here so late in the day—and figuring out what I want to say in this space. For now, I’m okay with just rambling. I hope you’re okay with it too.
I’m going to step outside and take a quick photo with my phone. Nothing fancy, just something to mark the time and accompany this post. I hope to resume daily posting soon. In the meantime, thanks for sticking with me through the transition.