It was a day of drama in the skies, the foggy wet morning with all sheathed in mist...
On to the cool autumn day preparing it's shift into November,
which always sounds more serious than. 'September'.
Through the quiet, cozy afternoon of almost all leaves on the ground, so many ,save the Beech and Oak done with foliage;
the Sassafras I noticed today, with it's tender Spring buds formed, to hold tight all winter , til Spring light signals the tree's juices to begin flowing .
Birds searching about for winter shelter, as the sounds of Hawks calling to one another fades with their departure ,and we hear the Canadian Geese honking their way across the skies ,as they land far below , in the river's outwaters, for rest and sustenance, on their journey south.
The Bluebird family babies are all grown , to be seen frolicking on the wooden garden arch, as I snip the last of the White Sage and Purple Sage ,for an annual herb bundle to hang and dry in the kitchen.
Going about the garden gathering plant seeds, to dry and plant next year, as I bid goodnight and good rest to them all.
Frost always coming all of a sudden, early or late, surprising us with its finality.
As the hills resound with gunfire, and will, for some time, itching fingers waiting for the signal that hunting season has indeed arrived .
As I go about my days, slow , quiet : broken by long arduous rollicking dog walks , as the 5 dog pack plummets themselves through the woods, plunging into the lake at the end of the forest's path, rearing up and biting furred ruffs and rolling each other about in pure and glorious play. Coming to my friend and I for kisses and accolades for good behavior and treats. Til all return home, satiated and confident and learning and pleased.
As the skies darken this afternoon , and I half expect to catch sight of a painter, with her easel, long skirts and cloak, rendering Romanticism unto our modern day clouds, upon her canvas; or perhaps a mythical figure on a cart, pulled by racing horses, dwarfed by the majesty of the skies.
But there is only New England Fall , advancing here, with its predictable wet , then dry ; cool ,and then hot days, til it will turn upon us, swathing us in a wild snowstorm, or freezing rains, as the temperature falls, frost paints upon our chilled windowpanes , and Autumn plummets by, as the earth turns.
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