It has gotten quite cool all of a sudden here, the chill of fall has arrived, no mistaking. Last night there were areas in the 30’s. This is typical September weather. I can remember, as a girl, walking to school with my new sweater in the morning and feeling too warm for it walking home in the afternoon. Cool and crisp mornings followed by brightly blue and sunny days, September is always a pretty month in my mind.
I took note and determined that I will cover the tomatoes in hopes that I will get a decent crop once it warms up a bit. Fall time here usually warms up for most of October and you can usually get some last tomatoes, if you cover them at night. Tuck them in with a sheet to keep the frost out and get the last little bit of summer on the table.
This time of year always makes me feel wistful. Foggy mornings and misty evenings, interspersed with the clear afternoon light that seems too short… lovely days always seem too short. The butterflies dance obliviously around the autumn clematis, I wonder if they know their time is short, yet dance anyway? They love the sweet soapy and creamy colored froth of clematis blooms. This year the vine is so wild and unkempt that it seems to make the arbor groan under all the bloom, too bad there are no little children in the house, that inner sanctuary of the arbor would make a perfect hideaway. Did you ever do that as a child? I always did, and the great forsythia bushes of my home and that of a neighbor provided virtual tents where we played and hid and watched the adult world outside.
This is the time of year I used to ride my bike down to the river and find my favorite tree whose roots made the ideal seat for a bookworm like me. I’d spend a couple hours reading while the river meandered by just below, and the sunshine trickled in through the leaves on the high branches. Only certain trees have just the right seat formation and you are very lucky if you have found one, I think.
I never have time for such things now, and I live in bare farmland where there are few places to wander off to, few trees except for those on private properties where owners dislike uninvited visitors. Sometimes I wish I had a full grown woods, but then I wouldn’t know the far reaching fields that give the eye no barrier to flaming sunsets, and the mural of the western skies. Each thing has the beauty of its own, which it alone can claim. The trouble is we are greedy for all the kinds of beauty, sometimes. I would have the ocean, the mountains, the plain, and the woods…. I would have it all if I could. It is all so very beautiful.