And where is Fall?

One of these days I'm going to put out an all points bulletin.  It will say Missing from my hill in Luna, Missouri, one season, goes by Fall, or Autumn.  If seen, please send it my way!

Yes, Fall is missing.  We have had a few chilly mornings and evenings.  Heavy fog and mist.  Some trees are showing color other than dull green or duller brown.  I see maples, some gum trees, some hickory that are doing their best to show-off.  But that certain something is not there.

Too warm.  Way too warm for this time of year.  Roses are blooming.  Lots of bugs are still thinking it is summer.  And the other day I think I saw a flock of geese headed...North?!!  If the birds are confused you can imagine how mixed up the rest of nature is.  Butterflies are still filling up on the still blooming flowers in my field.  And even the meadowlarks are singing a sort-of spring song.  They are trying to figure out what is going on too, I'm sure.

Fall is one of my favorite times of year.  Crispy leaves under foot, cool wind blowing against me as I trudge my few miles a day.  I haven't even gotten out my heavier coat for my morning walk.  I miss the smell of wood smoke from my neighbor's stove down in the valley.  We have our stove up and ready to go.  But no need for a little warm up in the morning or a fire to take off the chill in the evening.  The sky looks like a Fall sky...that certain blue that only this time of year can bring.  The air has taken on that quality that seems as if it could be in a Renaissance tapestry.  But even with all the support crew, Fall has failed to make its appearance here on my hill.  

Maybe it is waiting in the wings.  Ready for its grand entrance.  Spectacular.  Wonderful. Breath-taking.  

So if you see Fall lurking somewhere in your backyard or field, send it my way.  And tell it to hurry.  Winter is just around the corner! 

Webs, webs everywhere...

This has been a banner year for spiders of all shapes and sizes.  In late summer and early autumn you can look across our field, as afternoon drifts into evening, and see the smallest spiders drifting on the wind, hanging onto a lacy filament, going wherever they might be blown.  In the morning the dew covers each and every spider creation with sparkling diamonds. The grass sways and the webs dance to the music of the changing season.

On my porch I have several varieties of spiders...some big, some small and some in between.  I watch them spin their webs from post to post, corner to corner, behind the dinner bell that hangs from the eave.  They are welcome as long as they stay outside.  Any inside spiders are swept up gently in a Kleenex and deposited out in the grass.  There they can find their way to a new home somewhere among their friends and neighbors.

 Spider season is drawing to a close.  The webs are rather random now.  They string in no particular order here and there.  I think the spiders are exhausted from their daily work.  Many times the wind or the brush of a human hand or arm will break the web they have been weaving for hours.  They are not discouraged.  After a hasty retreat they make sure the way is clear and start making repairs to the web.  Persistent.  That's what they are.  

I took a census of my spiders the other day.  The two who worked on the south side of the porch have disappeared.  Their neglected webs drift in the breeze.  They remind me of an abandoned house with broken windows and a door that sags on its hinges, creaking in the autumn wind.  One of the spiders is motionless on the ceiling of the east facing porch.  Dead?  Alive?  Or just somewhere in between?  

Tomorrow I will sweep the porch and get rid of the empty webs.  I have enjoyed watching these marvels of nature and their handiwork.  But as it is with most things in life, there is a season for everything.  And web season appears to be over, here on the hill in Luna.

Still standing...

I took my camera with me on my morning walk, hoping to catch the last remnants of fall flowers along the road.  They were few and far between.  Many had suffered from the rains of the last several days.  And, face it, it is the end of the blooming season for most wild flowers.  Some are hardier than others and you can see them peeping bravely through the underbrush..sometimes up until mid-December.

These little brown-eyed Susans have always been one of my favorites.  This particular flower has suffered several munches and bites from a hungry insect, perched like the one you  see on its seed head.  After all, bugs have to eat too.  And flowers and trees and shrubs are fair game.

But still the flower stands.  I can hear the rain coming.  The wind is blowing hard from the east.  No flinching from the brown-eyed Susan.  She is there, sun or clouds, wind or calm, hot or cold.  

Perfect metaphor for life in general.  Take what comes.  Brave the elements.  And keep on standing.

Anywhere but here....

This is a famous signpost in Maine.  And, yes, all of those towns are in Maine.  Wouldn't it be wonderful if you could just close

 your eyes, snap your fingers, and go anywhere...anywhere but here?

Don't get me wrong.  I am not about to abandon my cherished home here on the hill.  But there are those odd moments when I feel as if the world is just getting a little too close for comfort.

You know what I'm talking about.  No one can escape the constant news feeds, last updates, latest findings.  Too much.  Just way too much information.

While it is important for us to keep up with the news, why does it have to bombard us everytime we turn on the radio, fire up the computer, look on our phone?  Enough.  I've had enough.  

I don't know what the solution is.  Grit my teeth and bear it all for the time being.  But will it stop in a few weeks...or a month?  Or will we be constantly harassed by this encroachment on our peace and quiet.  I don't know about you, but my peace and quiet was bought at a price.  And I will not give it up without a fight. 

Hard to fight the unknown.  Because I don't have a clue as to why or when or how this need-to-know suddenly became the be all and end all of our existence.

I'll try it again.  Close my eyes, snap my fingers...and maybe, just maybe this time, it will go away.  If not, so be it.  We will survive.  Because I know that if I was anywhere but here, it would probably be the same.  

A vagabond kind of day....

Are you familiar with the old fable entitled The Grasshopper and the Ant?  It seems the grasshopper fiddled the time away in play when he should have been preparing for winter.  The ant was busy putting up food to eat during the cold and nasty weather to come.  You got it!  The poor grasshopper came to the ant and begged for food when the chill winds blew and howled around him.  And she said, No,no, you feckless creature. You shall not share my bounty.  You should have thought of  this instead of fiddling your time away!

Alas, I was the grasshopper a few days ago.  Sunshine and balmy winds pulled me out of the house against my will and caused me to neglect my daily duty.  I left the broom standing beside the doorway, the clothes in a heap on the bed, the iron sitting on the ironing board, the dishes in the sink,  and not a morsel of food fixed for supper.

Shameful, shameful me.  I hang my head in sorrow and plead no contest to my crime, my dereliction of duty, my abandonment of good sense and sensibility.  Guilty, guilty as charged!

But...I did wander down the road to the river and dip my feet into that clear and icy stream.  I talked to the minnows and fat fish who were searching for food under the rocks and ripples.  I admired the reflections of turning leaves shimmering in the watery mirror.  I climbed a hill and stretched out full length, closing my eyes, serenaded by the song of that sweet temptress wind, lulling me to sleep.  Dreams of languid days walking and laughing down the hill.  Stopping to smell the sweet scent of flowers blooming just beyond the bank.  Sweet,sweet summer.  

As the sun began to set, I awoke, and yawning,made my way home.  I had no quick excuse for the state of my house and lack of  food on the table.  Ah, feckless me!  The grasshopper who had enjoyed  a beautiful gorgeous fall day....a vagabond... with no remorse.