Just a musing today…
The first fall after we planted our Burning Bush shrub in the front yard, its leaves turned a brilliant scarlet. Most other years since then a few leaves partially changed, but the majority remained mottled green until they eventually ended up on the ground.
This fall’s changes have been somewhere in between — some nice colour, but nothing so vivid as the first year. In the back yard a few shrubs are still changing, while others have already dropped their leaves before any colour had a chance to develop. Strangely, the annual Begonias out in the garden are still blooming, while on the back deck our hanging baskets and tubs have lost their flowers and only gangly greenery remains.
Autumn is my favourite time of the year. Although I admit to liking something about every new season, I’m always happy to escape summer’s intolerable heat, winter’s barren landscapes, and spring’s on-again, off-again rain.
Winter is an etching,
spring a watercolor,
summer an oil painting
and autumn a mosaic of them all.
We teeter on the brink of another new month, drawing closer to winter, wondering what effect the predicted El Nino may have. I think it must be time to retrieve the boxes of winter clothes from the basement. After months of T-shirts and cotton blouses, I’m looking forward to cozy turtlenecks and woollen sweaters.
The leaves fall, the wind blows,
and the farm country slowly changes
from the summer cottons
into its winter wools.
[Henry Beston, Northern Farm]
~ ~ ~
(I’m not a huge fan of Hallowe’en,
but for those who are…