Sunday, October 21, 2012
To Fall
A few thoughts, on this warm and sunny day:
It's been a gentle Fall here, and despite how dry it's been this year, the colors have been holding quite nicely for the past few weeks, steadily deepening in hue like overripe fruit, apricots and peaches and cherries (oh my! indeed), glazed with the sweet crispness of caramelized sugars, slowly burnt to perfection by the flames of the post-Equinox sun. There, in the distant woods, oak bark the color of wolves, leaves tough as leather and red as blood tremble over the bare bones of birch that lie scattered on the forest floor, as hungry fungi gather to feed on the rotting remains. Here, in the city, avenues are littered with the golden confetti of honey-locust leaves and the cracked shells of seed-pods dropped by catalpas and Kentucky coffee trees. Rainbows of sumac have faded, once-fiery maples have dwindled to a warm pastel glow, roses are burnt to crimson, blackberries have gone brown, and it's time to ready my home for winter.
Good weather and prior procrastinations have to conspired to hand me many chores to do today: clear the gutters, rake the yard, put the plants to bed, tamp the broken fence, clean up the walk, wash the outside windows, clear all the corners and edges in anticipation of ice and snow... There are vegetables in the garden and the fridge to take in and put up, the back steps need mending, my car's leaking oil pretty seriously now, and there's painting to do, fixtures to hang, paperwork to complete, the furnace and ducts need cleaning, the floors need scrubbing, someone needs to go to the store and make a few calls, among other things... I'd hoped to plant some bulbs on the boulevard, with a nod toward Spring, and lay down a warm cover of wood mulch for the Winter... all of these tasks being, more or less of little or no consequence, I suppose, but still a fair amount to do on one's own. I'd be grateful for a hand today, but will endeavor instead to get through what I can, knowing that there is only to do the job that lies ahead of you, each one to the next, and to commit oneself to honest work, in the labor of love. My little home has served me well, and surely deserves a bit of Tender Loving Care.
So, up the ladder I go... Here's hoping I don't fall and crack my head.
It's been a gentle Fall here, and despite how dry it's been this year, the colors have been holding quite nicely for the past few weeks, steadily deepening in hue like overripe fruit, apricots and peaches and cherries (oh my! indeed), glazed with the sweet crispness of caramelized sugars, slowly burnt to perfection by the flames of the post-Equinox sun. There, in the distant woods, oak bark the color of wolves, leaves tough as leather and red as blood tremble over the bare bones of birch that lie scattered on the forest floor, as hungry fungi gather to feed on the rotting remains. Here, in the city, avenues are littered with the golden confetti of honey-locust leaves and the cracked shells of seed-pods dropped by catalpas and Kentucky coffee trees. Rainbows of sumac have faded, once-fiery maples have dwindled to a warm pastel glow, roses are burnt to crimson, blackberries have gone brown, and it's time to ready my home for winter.
Good weather and prior procrastinations have to conspired to hand me many chores to do today: clear the gutters, rake the yard, put the plants to bed, tamp the broken fence, clean up the walk, wash the outside windows, clear all the corners and edges in anticipation of ice and snow... There are vegetables in the garden and the fridge to take in and put up, the back steps need mending, my car's leaking oil pretty seriously now, and there's painting to do, fixtures to hang, paperwork to complete, the furnace and ducts need cleaning, the floors need scrubbing, someone needs to go to the store and make a few calls, among other things... I'd hoped to plant some bulbs on the boulevard, with a nod toward Spring, and lay down a warm cover of wood mulch for the Winter... all of these tasks being, more or less of little or no consequence, I suppose, but still a fair amount to do on one's own. I'd be grateful for a hand today, but will endeavor instead to get through what I can, knowing that there is only to do the job that lies ahead of you, each one to the next, and to commit oneself to honest work, in the labor of love. My little home has served me well, and surely deserves a bit of Tender Loving Care.
So, up the ladder I go... Here's hoping I don't fall and crack my head.
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