Thursday, November 7, 2013

My basil is toast, burnt toast is what it looks like. Most other plants are still hanging in there since we haven't had a hard freeze. I think about going out and removing whatever isn't going to survive the winter but I keep finding things to do inside instead. Maybe it's because I'm not ready to give up on what I enjoyed all spring and summer. This is a beautiful time of the year but always makes me nostalgic. I used to think it was because it heralded the beginning of the school year and as much as I enjoyed school it put restrictions and limits on how I could spend my time. No more spending each day in imaginative play or reading favorite books straight through. The days are shorter as well and cooler in the evenings so that being outside requires some sort of jacket. Then I turn my thinking to the fact that I can cook some of my good soup recipes and I can pull out my winter wardrobe. Change can be good and something to look forward to.This year we're enjoying a beautiful vista of changing leaves. I have to watch that I'm not distracted by them as I drive. I've written a poem about the trees and another one about the change back from daylight savings time. They do tend to intersect.

Coming Out

The debutantes of Autumn now vie
for our attention; their gowns of
yellow, gold, orange, bronze and crimson
stand out in stark contrast to the staid
and somber greens and muted brown
their escorts wear. No shrinking violets here.
They're using this occasion now to shine before
the last song of their season is played out.

-  November 6, 2013

Time on My Hands

Early yesterday morning, 2 a.m. to be exact,
we stopped saving time. At least that's how
it sounds when you fall back after having
an extra hour of daylight at the end of each day.
And how can you save time? Time keeps moving
no matter how fast or slow we act. It's not like
saving pennies, is it? Can we say "a minute saved
is a minute earned" the way we say that about pennies?
The penny lies there in your hand, a tangible object,
while the minute is gone never to be experienced again.

- November 4, 2013

Saturday, November 2, 2013

It's cooled off enough that my basil plant is just a memory. Oh, but I did pick several stems and have them in a vase of water on my kitchen counter. The other herbs are toughing it out until we get an actual freeze.
Now as I drive around my town so full of large leafy trees I'm enjoying the changing colors and also thinking about where do all those leaves go. I know some rake them or have them vacuumed up by some enterprising individuals. I prefer to leave them to their own devices, either blowing away or getting chewed up by the people who cut my grass.
But back to my original thoughts, what does happen to all the leaves? We have many large trees with a gazillion leaves. It looks as if we'd be up to our ears in leaves when all of them finally bite the dust. Maybe I have too much time on my hands if I can ponder this. On the other hand I did think of the trees when their leaves leave. It's kind of like when my kids and now my grandson left for college. . .

Taking Leave

Do they feel the separation? Is there pain
when their leaves let go and drift away?
Do tree mothers mourn their passing?
The loss is graphic, bare limbs, bare trunks,
their young lying lifeless at their roots
forming a blanket before snow falls.
I like to think the tree mothers fall into
a deep and peaceful sleep and dream
of Spring's arrival with re-birth and
new lives to nurture and enjoy.

30 October 2013