Fall approaches


by cheri

One lone wasp tried to invade our dinner  last night.

The owlets have fledged.

The dry grasses on the California hillsides, once long and wavy, have been eaten to the nubs by the Angus cattle grazing across from our gate. Angus calves are being born each night.

The squirrels have snatched every last walnut off our trees. The locust trees are dropping their dollar-shaped leaves. The rattlesnake I killed last week has been eaten by the buzzards.

I’ve switched from short to long yoga pants. My windbreaker is on the floor of my closet.

The yellow, blue, and orange umbrellas on our patio are arguing with me.

Dinah is beginning to grow her winter coat.

The ivy on the house is turning color. All the rats must be disappointed.

Everyone is settled into school.

I become sentimental this time of year.

My gratefulness increases like the soup cans in my pantry.

Fall approaches.

About Cheri

Writer, photograph, artist, mother, grandmother and wife.
This entry was posted in Life, My photography and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

8 Responses to Fall approaches

  1. shoreacres says:

    I saw the season’s first osprey yesterday. Today, a second one perched atop a mast in the marina where I’m working. Tonight, I have the windows open. It’s predicted to reach a chilly 66 degrees, and the high tomorrow will be in the high 80s. Best of all, the humidity is 47%.

    In other news, Osprey helicopters are dropping hay to the estimated 1.2 million head of cattle stranded on islands in the midst of their flooded fields. The Texas National Guard is apparently doing a good job with their new assignment.

    Like you, I become a little sentimental in autumn, but we’re not far enough into it yet for sentimental feelings to kick in. It needs to be a little drier, a little cooler, and a little more normal for that to happen. School finally will start on Monday after a two-week flood delay, and that will help.

  2. Cheri says:

    We are true Libras.

    So wonderful to have your windows open! I am spoiled here in the Bay Area with those foggy cool nights that make sleep with open windows so lovely.

    I am also happy to hear that the hay and alfalfa drops are ongoing. I just sent an email to the owner of the little herd of Clydesdales about feed on the hills. I’m sure he didn’t take kindly to that email.

    More normal? I often wonder about whether things in our life will ever feel normal again. We leave for Idaho and Montana tomorrow on a “fact-finding” trip. The bloom is off the rose in the Bay Area. We think there have been at least 500,000 new housing/condo/apt buildings here with no additional infra-structure to support all the people here. The freeways are jammed. Too many people.

    The markets are inflated. Housing prices are ridiculous. How long can this go on?

  3. Richard says:

    A timely ode to autumn.

    You ponder earlier signs than Keats and capture in anticipation the heady nostalgia for yet another summer, soon to be gone forever. What travails will the coming winter bring? Is it so far off when to step outside is no longer a happy whim but an expedition against the cold, rain and wind?

    Should we defy the weather and, like fall, discard our coats?

    I hear your admonishment: Live in the beauty of the present !

    • Cheri says:

      Llving in the present moment is the biggest challenge I face. My mind nostalgically returns to the past and eagerly (or sometimes fearfully ) anticipates the future.

  4. wkkortas says:

    Living in some of the colder parts of the Rust Belt, one develops a curious relationship with the Fall, as I would argue that it is the most capricious of the seasons; I have played touch football in shorts on Thanksgiving Day, and I have hoped that the eight or ten inches of wet snow would not bring all the trees and power lines down on Halloween. Eliot may have written “April is the cruelest month”, but I suspect that only means he spent October in Tenerife or Ibiza.

    • Cheri says:

      Capricious is the perfect word for fall. I remember one September at Lake Tahoe, normally a time for leisurely boating without the summer crowds. A horrible pre-winter rain storm came in and sunk a number of sailboats still moored to their buoys.

  5. Chris says:

    I love autumn, I love the smells, the sounds, and the colors. When I was little, wearing by brown and white saddle shoes to school., I would shuffle through the fallen maple leaves. I would have the pleasure of both sound and smell as the leaves shattered under my assault. If I was lucky I would find a buckeye on the ground and add to my collection. I always seemed the happiest in the fall, I think because the outdoors is so inviting.

  6. Cheri says:

    What a great description you have offered. I love the phrase “…leaves shattered under my assault…” beautiful writing, Chris! I am happiest in the fall. I know why. My birthday is in October. My siblings’ birthdays are in October. My parents loved January.

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