Autumn in November

"It was November--

the month of crimson sunsets, parting birds, deep, sad

hymns of the sea, passionate wind-songs in the pines.

Anne roamed through the pineland alleys in the park,

and as she said, let that great sweeping wind blow the

fogs out of her soul."

― L. M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

Oh, what a tangled web we weave when life becomes far, far too complicated. My lack of inspiration created a late October post that was booted straight into the compost bin. The emotional distress I often feel when my life is tangled with another life that rubs me raw doesn’t cause as much writer’s block as it creates a feeling of despair that hinders me from moving forward.  During those times I seek peace, often isolating myself to let my soul heal. I’m often surprised that I have lived this long, but I wish to outlive my two cats, then I will be at peace. Sounds corny, doesn't it. 

The season is turning into the realm of golden and apricot-colored leaves, and all remaining flowers replacing petals with the wonder of seed production. Cold mornings are often followed by warmer afternoons, but not always; and with the turning back of clocks once again to normal time by human standards, there will be those who express a grumpy attitude towards it all. Of course, all else on the planet has been on earth-time since the dawn of existence.

It has already been several weeks since I last sat outside despite the coolness of the day.  There is always a gift waiting for me, and this day was no different.  A flock of robins were a delight to watch as they feasted on the Blackhaw viburnum berries which are all turning from pink to blue, their ripest color.  The afternoon ended with a nice little snack of pizza and lemonade.

I don’t really know what is going wrong with me when it comes to photographing my garden, except that the lenses that replaced my cataracts have formed a fogging behind them.  It’s an easy fix, so they say, if I can bend my head back enough for the procedure to take place, and I thought I would be able to perform that task; but after a few months of not improving, I’m not so sure anymore. My right eye is worse than my left, and I can see what I consider fine until I begin working on my photographs. That’s when I can truly see my eyesight is not clear.

Just one thing after another, and another, and another…

If I didn’t visit your blogs last time you left me a comment, I’m truly sorry.  I always know who you are, but life got away from me and that’s all I can say.

Next week my glass music box, which has never played correctly since the day it was gifted to me used, will be on its way to a place in Florida that repairs music boxes as complex as mine. I thought about replacing it with a new music box until I saw the price. I just about died right there on the spot. It will be fantastic to listen to the three movements of Phantom of the Opera without having to stand by the music box to wind the turnkey half a turn to continue to the next place it chooses to stop which is three or four times during the three movements. 

It was all becoming extremely frustrating.  It was originally a birthday present, and I was told that the repair will be my Christmas present.  Somehow, I feel slightly short changed.

It has been several days and as I, with a cat wedged between me and the chair arm, am attempting to finish typing this conversation, he is still demanding my constant attention. He had a rather expensive dental cleaning with two teeth needing to be removed and is such a sappy guy now.

October was just a dress rehearsal and November has been the true pinnacle of glory for autumn in my garden. Breezes are more demanding, rain has begun to be more plentiful, and gold, orange, and russet hued leaves are blanketing the ground in preparation for wintertime.

Science tells us this process is called leaf abscission, a controlled process of shedding leaves. Before detachment, the plant reabsorbs valuable resources like nitrogen and phosphorus from the leaf tissue back into the permanent structures of the stem and roots. As a result, chlorophyll production is slowed to a halt, and being chemically unstable, the green coloration disappears, revealing the presence of other pigments.  A layer of specialized cells forms at the base of the leaf stalk, sealing the wound and allowing the leaf to drop cleanly.

As always, I am at a loss as to how this ends.

She typed into the middle of the night

breaking for a sip of tart cherry juice.

A glass with ice, coated in water drops

dripping like rain onto her cotton dress.

With lights turned out, but for a lonely lamp

of dim light to let her plants sleep the night

while piano music floats through the air.

But her cat, Austin, left ages ago,

a bump to his side when she pressed a key

stunk as a substitute for a caress.

On she types until the midnight hour,

then she yawns and stops for an eager read,

twists the corner of her mouth in disgust

and deliberately clicks on publish,

just two steps from her melt down breaking point

of rewrite after rewrite- on and on.

It is better to give, than to receive,

so... a merry Fall Day to you, my friend.

Swamp Sunflower, Helianthus angustifolius

Carolina Wren, Thryothorus ludovicianus

Not in focus , but it is what it is.

Winterberry

Swamp Sunflower, 

with Blackhaw Viburnum berries in background

Unripe berries are white, half ripe berries are reddish,

and ripe berries are blue.

Winterthur Viburnum ripe berries

House Finch, Haemorhous mexicanus

Winterberry berries

Maybe a Cucumber Beetle

Charlotte and Austin

Auster 'Paten' Seedheads

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The Magical Stardust of Thankfulness

Every day, spread the magical stardust of thankfulness into your life.

 ~Terri Guillemets

I sometimes feel as if we are in the dressing room of Autumn as she disrobes her fiery finery to put on something more relaxing for winter.  If she wants to remember once more what elegance feels like, the snow begins to fall with all the magic of a multitude of star struck prisms.

How sad that in all this finery or lack of finery with just layer upon layer of frozen crystals, she transcends, only to descend once more when sun rays warm her.  Her calming fairy tale magic takes a nosedive into a dreadful Brothers Grimm fairy tale full of mud, frostbite and chopped off toesies.

“Expectation is the thief of joy.” If we leave expectations out of the equation, then we leave even snowless days full of possibilities.

And here I am, looking for possibilities as each day’s temperature may be flirting with the end of summer or cozying up to the beginning of winter.

The cats are fed and I am cozying up to my laptop wondering how my gratitude really rates on the scale of life.  Gratitude is a deeper, more profound state of being than thankfulness, that involves a lasting attitude of appreciation for life's circumstances and the people in it.

I seldom think of gratitude, or for what I am thankful for.  Striving to live a positive life is a full time job for me.  Not living under the best of circumstances creates a heavy load in that department, but I always refocus back to the possibilities in my life.  One has to or the fingers of depression begin to work their damage.

I think the most memorable moment in my life of happiness was when I was young, maybe 25 years old, way before I began to drag all that garbage of my past around with me instead of letting go.  My handle was ‘Juliet’, for when I used my husbands CB radio, which was rarely ever.

I was home and my youngest sister was with me when a trucker called on his radio asking if anyone was out there, as he was passing through town.  Since no one answered, I answered back without a clue as to what I would be saying next.  We jokingly hinted he could stop by and take a short break.  He took us up on the offer and soon a large semi-truck was parked along the front side of my yard.

We all hung out by the semi-truck talking for about half an hour, before he said he should be going, but we had been laughing and having so much fun.  He enjoyed the visit so much that he opened the back of the trailer and took out one of the many boxes of Red Delicious apples he was hauling from Washington state down through Nevada, which is where we were living, and gave it to me.

We were shocked but happy and thankful for the gift.  I have to say this is the most pleasant memory that ever comes to mind all these years later.  Those apples were so crisp and juicy, a reward just because we were ourselves, being outgoing and welcoming with a stranger of the CB radio world.

It is said that one never understands all the simple pleasures that we could be grateful for, but for much of the time we just assume it will always be there.  It takes loosing those privileges to wake us up to what we always take for granted and never even think of the gratefulness of it all.

Sometimes I would hear that expression of getting off the plane and kissing the ground expressing an overwhelming feeling of safety at the end of a perilous situation. It was my first thought when we flew back home from Panama, Central America.

When we entered the airport at Panama, it was extremely intimidating, full of armed Panamanian soldiers with rifles.  Being so obviously white and more likely assumed Americans, we had to be careful about the police, because being stopped by one always meant a bribe had to be paid to be allowed to continue our trip.  

There was a double price for groceries, one for Panamanians and one for the richer Americans, even though we weren't rich.  If you where American you were always assumed to be rich.  If you didn’t pay the guy who stepped out of the shadows to watch your parked car on the street when eating or shopping, on ones return it would be discovered the guy stole from your car, usually a tire or two.  

There was always tension in the air over the politics of the country, as dissatisfied students would riot on the streets, sometimes rolling a car over onto its roof and setting fire to it while the owner had to run away.  One never wanted to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.  If the military showed up in a fun place, it was best to quietly exit and go somewhere else.

We were never assigned a home on base, so we always lived out in the city of Panama, among the richer Panamanians.  Our rent was at least doubled,  which our government paid.  We felt safe there because it was a Panamanian lawyers house and apartments for his children within a walled yard.  

The third year, we were moved to an American owned street off base.   ‘Just Cause’ happened and we found ourselves sitting on the floor of our bedroom for part of the night, as mortars flew over our house to destroy a police station nearby, while poor bloodied Panamanians from that shelled area, filled our back yard and carport, and we rightly feared for our lives.

It was an exhilarating experience, but overall, eventually the fear of no safety and the lack of empathy towards us made it a living hell, one in which we always had a gun on the coffee table just in cause its use was necessary. 

For the first time in my life, when I got off that airline flying us home from Panama after four years, I felt like kissing that ground a hundred times, it was such a relief.

In The Garden

Front Yard with 

Monarda fistulosa, Wild Bergamot, around the sign post,

still green in November.

 

Heuchera americana

A type of American Ginger

Blackhaw Viburnum berries

Type of native clematis.

Seeds of Calico Aster with the yellow/green leaves of Oat Grass.

Coral Berry

Very prolific this year with more fruit than any other year.

Maybe Maple seedlings, maybe not.

American Dogwood leaves.

Pachysandra procumbens

Left side of Back Yard

Clethra alnifolia, summer sweet in center of photo,

behind it is a male Persimmon Tree,

to the right is an American Hornbeam,

To the front left is a short type of American Arborvitae

where it catches rain runoff from the pathways.

With a hint of Christmas

The Book Wreath

My Favorite

While the cool winds chill on a sunny day, and the rain is so pushy, never wanting to stay away; I seldom celebrate this month’s holiday, although I do celebrate husbands love for it, which I think centers around all that tasty food. 

With the apple picking just about done for, and winter nipping at our toes, may your days be bright with possibilities and your soul warmed with the remembering of why life's a blessing and not a curse.

Thank you for stopping by and leaving a comment, if you wish.  You make my blog possible, and I do think if everyone disappeared, it would just melt away into the cosmos and be a lost memory ever so pleasant.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Always with love,

     ~Yvonne 

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Saturday's Critters