Posted tagged ‘fall flowers’

“Look! It’s moving. It’s alive. It’s alive… It’s alive, it’s moving, it’s alive, it’s alive, it’s alive, it’s alive, IT’S ALIVE!”

October 2, 2014

The rain started Tuesday and continued throughout Wednesday until well into the night. The dog’s outside water bowl was filled with rainwater. We’re talking inches of rain here. The ground is still soaked. With the rain came cooler temperatures. It is only 57˚ and with the dampness it feels even colder. The wind has picked up and the trees are being blown. More rain is predicted for later.

I’d vote for October as my favorite month. The weather is lovely, fall flowers are in bloom, pumpkins adorn front steps and fill wagons at farm stands, leaves are in such an array of colors even the most boring road is ablaze in yellows and reds and the best of all is that October finishes on its very last day with Halloween. Christmas has Santa and elves and flying reindeer, but I love even more the witches and ghosts and monsters of Halloween. There are no scary Santa movies except maybe Santa Claus Conquers the Martians which is frightfully bad. Nope, hands down, Halloween has the best scary movies. I love them all especially the classics. I’m not talking blood and gore movies. I want to be scared by subtlety. We never see Dracula bite into Mina’s neck. He uses his cloak to hide it, but we know what’s going on. Our imaginations fill in the void. One of my all time favorite movie scenes is in Frankenstein. It is when the villagers hunt the monster. They are sent off to, “…search every ravine, every crevice. The fiend must be found.” The black and white of the movie enhances the scary scene. Wide-eyed women huddle and hide. The dogs who lead the pack of crazed villagers are barking and pulling at their leashes. The men wend their way down a hill their torches bright in the darkness. Their garbled shouts echo in the night. We sense their fear. It touches us and scares us. That’s the best part of Halloween.

“If you stand still outside you can hear it… Winter’s footsteps, the sound of falling leaves.”

October 27, 2013

If you looked up fall in the dictionary, they’d be a picture of today. The sun is shining, the sky is a pale blue and the breeze is brisk with a bit of a chill. Fall is in full burst. My front yard is filled with fallen leaves and pine needles. The grass doesn’t needed mowing any more. Yesterday my irrigation system was shut down for the season, and today I’ll clear the water from my back yard hoses. It’s time to close down the deck for the season though I’ll save a place to sit on a sunny day, my big wooden chair. I love fall, but I find it sad when fall begins to move toward winter.

Summer is always exuberant. It is warmth and colors and the sweet smell of flowers wafting through the air. Every morning I’d get the papers and then stop to look at my front garden. I’d lean against the car and marvel at the beauty of the flowers. I always noticed a few empty spots and would get excited at needing to buy new flowers. I can never have enough flowers. I’d finally pull myself away and go into the house, get my coffee and go outside on the deck. It takes me a long time to read the papers when I’m outside. I stop and watch the birds at the feeders and Gracie in the backyard. I listen to the singing. I raise my face to the sun and close my eyes. Summer fills me.

Fall always seems to have a faster pace than summer, and I think of October, nearing its end, as the bridge between fall and winter. Fall has a unique beauty when the leaves turn, and the trees are filled with color, muted color. My garden celebrates the season with fall flowers. The plants I put in last year were in full bloom this fall, and I was surprised as I had forgotten planting them. This year I added three more fall flowers, and they must have been happy to be planted as they bloomed a week or two later. Of all the seasons fall surprises me the most. The days are sometimes as warm as summer while the nights get downright cold. The sunlight slants in an odd direction. Darkness comes earlier and earlier.

My heat comes on in the mornings now. I can hear it as I’m waking up. The days seem to be warm enough to keep the furnace at bay, but I doubt that will last too much longer. Winter is coming.

“Flowers seem intended for the solace of ordinary humanity.”

October 1, 2013

My mornings are leisurely. I brew the coffee, get the papers from the driveway, grab a cup of coffee when it’s finished brewing then sit down and read the papers. I generally read everything from the headlines to the sports pages. I do two crossword puzzles and one cryptogram. I check the local weather. I seldom know anyone on the Names page in the Globe. Today I knew two, actors who are in town for filming. With each paper, I drink a cup of coffee. Every now and then I drink a third. This morning, though, was a bit different. I had a strange burst of energy caused, I think, by the broken planter and the dirt all over the floor of my dining room which I noticed right away when I came downstairs. It must have fallen during the night, and I never heard it. Obviously Gracie didn’t either as she didn’t bark at the noise. I cleaned up the mess and found a new pot for the plant then ended up watering the rest of the plants, all before I my usual morning ritual. While the coffee was brewing, I swept the kitchen floor and lemon oiled the small wooden whatever it’s called on my kitchen counter. It has two drawers. That’s my only hint as to what it might be. Then and only then did I get my coffee and sit down with the papers. I feel as if I have put in a whole day’s work. Not only that but I also finally dusted the shelves in this room. I did that last night. For some unknown reason, I have become Sally homemaker. I am hoping there is a cure.

According to the Cape Times, it will be in the 70’s every day this whole week while the nights will drop to the 50’s. That sounds ideal to me.

Already I can see the sun has begun its fall journey and has shifted to shine at a different angle than it had all summer. In my garden, the autumn flowers have bloomed, and they are lovely. Purple ones are the newest. The anemones I bought and planted seemed to have settled into the garden and a couple are blooming. Every time I looked at that front garden, I am tempted to buy more flowers, especially with the warm days still coming. Today I’m going to the farm stand for tomatoes and whatever else catches my eye. If, by chance, I happen upon some more flowers, I might just buy them. Let’s face it: I probably will buy them. I am a sucker for flowers.

“There ought to be gardens for all months in the year, in which, severally, things of beauty may be then in season.”

September 26, 2013

My official acknowledgement of autumn was yesterday. The back screen door is now in the cellar and the storm door is in its place. The nights had been too cold to leave the backdoor open so Gracie didn’t have access to her dog door. She would ring the bells to go out, and I’d have to go running to open the door then wait for her. Now Gracie can come and go as she pleases.

The days seem darker to me, the sun less bright. I figure it’s mostly my imaginings at the transition in seasons. The cat still sleeps in the morning sun streaming through the front door so she is content. I am not. Every day seems to bring a change as we rush toward winter. The fall flowers are at their peak. The mums in my garden have all bloomed. The new flowers are planted in the front garden. The deck looks desolate and has pine needles, small twigs and branches and the hulls of sunflower seeds strewn about. Some days I sit in the sun in the afternoon, but I wear a sweatshirt against the chill. The days of short-sleeves have ended. We do have plenty of autumn left so my lament may be early, but the nights are cold. They feel like the first touch of winter.

I’m wearing my slippers and a sweatshirt. The house was cold this morning, colder than when I have the heat going, but I can’t bring myself to start the furnace: it’s the final surrender.

When I go to my old town, I always follow the route I used to walk to school. I notice the changes and remember what used to be there. The house where my friends grew up is gone. It was a pretty white house with red shutters and a trellis by the back door. A house near it was always a favorite of mine. It was an old house, one of the first on the street. It too is gone. In their place is a small brick apartment building, an ugly building with no character, with no homeyness. I am glad I don’t walk that route any more.

“In order to see birds it is necessary to become a part of the silence.”

September 21, 2013

Gracie was on the deck and barking so I went out to check to see which critter was within sight. I didn’t see any, but I did see a water spray near the top of the driveway. A bird was having the most wonderful bath in a puddle from my irrigation system. The drops of water were flying in the air as the bird flapped its wings. That bird was having a great time and so was I while watching it.

The morning is a beauty. It is quintessential autumn on Cape Cod. The sun is bright and the day is warm. Fall flowers are in bloom, and my garden is filled with mums, anemones and my favorite of all, autumn clematis. In autumn, I always think Mother Nature gives us her best and final show before winter’s turn in the year.

I need bird seed: sunflower and thistle. Lately, with so many birds, the big feeder empties quickly. I think word of beak must be the reason. Yesterday, after I had filled the feeders with the last of the seeds, a chickadee flew so close by me I swear its wing touched my cheek. I love to stand by the deck rail and watch the birds eat. They are barely an arm’s length away as the feeders hang off the deck. The chickadees are the most fearless. The seeds are what they want, and my being there doesn’t give them pause. The thistle feeder spins each time a goldfinch or chickadee lands on it. The birds just hold on and go with the spin.

I know I won’t be able to stop myself from roaming the flower aisles when I go to buy the bird seed. Perennials are on sale as are the fall flowers. I just happen to have a few spaces in the small round garden where a tree used to stand and some spots in the back of the big front garden. I also want to harvest the rest of my herbs. The rosemary is ready to hang in the house, and its aroma will spread about the kitchen to remind me summer will be back. I just have to be patient.

“The leaves fall, the wind blows, and the farm country slowly changes from the summer cottons into its winter woods.”

September 17, 2013

An early morning meeting (9 for me) has slowed down the day. I didn’t get to the papers until I got back home, and my morning doesn’t officially start until the papers are read and my two cups of coffee are consumed. I am now ready to start the day.

I’m wearing a sweatshirt so that should be all you need to know about the weather.

As much as I wanted an empty dance card this week, it seems to be filling. I have a meeting tomorrow and I need to shop on Thursday for the fixings to celebrate my friend’s birthday on Friday. That means making my chili after I shop so it has a whole day to settle. On Friday I have to make my chocolate pudding pie for dessert. Those choices are my friend’s for her special birthday dinner. I think Saturday is still an open day, but the way things are going, it will probably change.

Soon will be the start of the hibernation season for me and the bears. Nothing much seems to happen in winter. A few playhouses stay open, but I usually don’t buy a ticket unless the play is spectacular. In a short time, the house will get that closed in feeling, a stuffiness from the heat and the lack of fresh air. I’ll only go out on the deck to fill the bird feeders and out front to get the papers and the mail. All summer I would stop for a bit to admire the front garden and take in the morning. In winter, it’s a rush to get back inside the warm house.

I chose to live in New England even though I am not a fan of winter. I always think of the other seasons as rewards for living through the cold. My favorite season is just beginning. Autumn on the Cape is beautiful with clear crisp air, the red leaves of the oak trees, colorful mums at the garden stands, the harvesting of cranberries from the bogs and fall flowers still brightening the gardens. It’s still a long way until winter.