peaking early this year
September 30, 2009
September 23, 2009
Pitch black by 7:30pm, we stand on the front porch, barefoot, listening. Insects thrum louder than they have in days. A warm spell stirs them, three nights following our first hard freeze. They, like we, are in a great state of hurry. Firewood is the priority. And apples. What to do with all of them. Sheet lightening reveals a fig hue in the sky. The corrugated roof of the barn lifts with it. No thunder tonight.
The silhouette of a maple is still thick with leaves. Tomorrow, I will take my camera.
September 11, 2009
They’ve eaten the coral berries of the mountain ash. Stripped clean in less than nine days, the tree stands browning and disheveled. The glory of orange and red is rising to the south in one large maple turning early. Even the robins were gone yesterday. No longer popping between tufts of grass, snatching the sounds of summer by way of grasshoppers; the field was mowed. As shelters shrink, leaves curl, vines wither slowly from their broadest range, life takes flight—to somewhere warm, or warmer than the coming days. This morning’s chill has me churning thoughts of fire to break the spell. Instead, I hold my mug, with open palms, more closely.