Standing at the Trailhead of Winter

 

Fall is definitely in the air. The mornings are cool, enough so that I need a jacket for our walk. The sunflowers are ready to be cut out after the gold finches picked them over until all the seeds are completely gone. And the robins are moving through. I've not seen them all summer, but this morning, quite a few were in the driveway and yard. Yesterday, as I drove home after visiting with a friend for the afternoon, the killdeer seemed to be grouping in preparation for migration. I don't think I've ever seen so many killdeer my entire life. I love living where we have four very distinct seasons. Fall is my favorite of the four. It just seems like we're being told to slow down, relax, enjoy. I really try to listen and do all three as often as possible. I worked a bit in the yard over the weekend, mostly removing the tall sunflower stalks and other ungainly weeds growing alongside the house. I'd left everything alone this summer just to see what was already here, and...

Mornings are still dark when Ado and I get up and go for our first walk of the day. I see the moon move through its phases if the sky is clear. I watch the crows fly overhead, going from their nightly nesting ground to wherever it is they go for the day. I hear the hoot owls calling to one another. Rabbits zip to the shelter of hedges from openly eating in front yards under cover of darkness. The stillness of this time snuggles around me like a favorite sweatshirt pulled on that first cool morning after a long, hot, muggy summer. Speaking of yellow . . . During my walk home from the Coffeehouse last evening, after sitting for several hours with a friend, talking work and writing, my thoughts turned to how not long from now darkness will settle in by 5 pm. My excuse to pull on pj's and hunker down for the evening. One of my most favorite things to do, and it will last right up until April when I'm ready to shed the layers and get back out into the world again. The last f...

Mist rose from the hillside this morning when Ado and I set out for our walk. The hot days then nights cooling way off effect. The night temps have dipped so much since the rain moved through last week that I've had to wear a sweatshirt for our early morning walks along the still-quiet streets. I love this time of day. Before everything gets hectic. Before someone says something that makes you pause or something happens that makes you just shake your head. The entire day has been absolutely gorgeous. Sunny but a cool breeze to keep the heat at bay. The sky without a single cloud. Yesterday on my way to work I noted how there were no clouds whatsoever. When I started home later in the afternoon, the clouds had moved in but they were just puffy white fluffs drifting slowly along. Today I figured the same would happen -- clear blue in the morning but fluffy clouds in the afternoon. I was wrong. There are no clouds. Just the blue expanse. Yesterday Angel Baby arrived home from work...

Hopped on Sweetness today to ride up to the farm for eggs. I've been riding the cruiser so much that when I swung my leg over Sweetness, the feel seemed strange. I felt all gathered together. On the cruiser I sit upright, my arms are out in front of me, and my feet are a bit in front of the saddle rather than right underneath. I'm all stretched out. On Sweetness, I'm leaning over, my arms are bent and much closer to my torso, and my feet hit the pedals right beneath the saddle. Everything feels so close. Small even. It was just a strange sensation. You'd think I'd be able to switch between the bikes and not flinch over the differences. Red Hen came over to say hello. The ride up to the farm was good. I had a lot of help from the wind out of the southwest. The return ride was slower, the wind hitting me at an angle, but once I hit the trail the thick treeline created a nice screen. I decided to stop by the Coffeehouse for something cold and to just people watch...

Ado said absolutely no to the walks today. Just after noon, I took him out in hopes he would walk our usual longer route, but before we'd even made it to the house next door he was stopping and just staring at me. This is his way of saying, "Ummm, not gonna happen." So we returned to the apartment where he immediately settled onto the couch for the afternoon. I then took him out around four, and we did make it along the path by the creek, down to the road then up the hill and back to the apartment. At that point, I knew if I was going to get any exercise, I needed to jump on the bike and go. Look at that beautiful blue! So I did. I stayed on the trail and took the route west. This is probably the least traveled trail section. The westside here is considered undesirable (code for that's where the poor people live), so the not-poor people tend to stay away from that part of town. When I first moved here nineteen years ago, I was advised to not live on the west sid...

A year. That's how much time has passed since the last time I sat in my hammock swing. At odd moments during the past year, I'd think about my swing and wish I had it. But I had no place to hang it. I finally bought a stand, and now, my swing is on my deck. When I settled into it late yesterday afternoon, I felt like a kid with the best gift ever. Just sitting and swaying, losing track of time. I read my book. I watched the Carolina wrens. The babies had left the nest about two weeks ago, but the whole family shows up each evening and hunts for dinner in the side yard. Mostly I just sat, eyes closed, and listened to the cicadas.  The air smells different now. During spring and summer the vegetation gives off a vibrant odor. Now, hints of autumn waft on the breeze. I think of the color brown when whiffs of falling leaves and annuals reaching the end of their life drift on the air. A chipmunk joined me on the deck for a few minutes. Its cheeks appeared packed full, bu...