Brrrrr. It was only 28 degrees when I woke up. There was still a hard frost blanketing every blade of grass and surviving flower petal when the crew showed up out front of the house to pour our sidewalk and put a signature stamp on the 200 block of East Conan project. We’ve got new trees planted and are just waiting on some top soil and grass seed before the snow comes.
I walked through Whiteside Park and found some new friends yesterday. The gaggle was just hanging out I guess because it was still so windy and they were waiting for a reprieve after the inflated gusts of the weekend. They were all sitting until I stopped to take a picture and then they each rose to take a few steps here and there, but basically just hung out in a spot of sun that was slowly growing under the trees.
The geese were a mirror of where we are in flux between the middle of autumn and the inevitable winter to come. With some hours of summer warmth thrown in. While this morning was an obvious low mark on the thermometer, there’s plenty of time in the 60s coming. I’ve found a couple of woolly caterpillars underneath fallen milkweed plants and dying rhubarb leaves resting on the ground. They are large and furry and I’m wondering if they’re signalling a heavy snowfall this winter. I moved them carefully under some other ground cover to a safer area where they’ll be safer from footfalls.
I picked up a new Mary Oliver collection of poems and prose last week and spent part of my afternoon off yesterday pulled up to the fire pit beginning to explore again one of my favorite poets. I connect with her work in the ways she remembers her beloved pets, walks in the woods, time spent sitting by water, love of the silent, private relationships forged through observation and, of course, her obvious mastery of never being afraid to highlight the simple, the (what other people might call) mundane. For me, during this overwhelming time of seasonal change, the opportunities to celebrate the simple and everyday staples that hold each of our moments together like glue.
I know I spent a lot of words on the songs of the starlings that greeted me over eight months from October through May but now that they have returned, I noticed how much I missed them each time I opened my back door. I could write more about them. I likely will, until I feel I’ve come close to the credit that their eclectic songs and drab, everyday brown colors deserve. Not to mention their steadfast companionship. I think Mary might approve. I know that if I keep watching, if I keep listening, there’s more for me to discover as they sit there on the line like live notes written by hand on a sheet of music.
I’ve just spent a lot of time getting to know Simon’s new neighborhood in St. Paul including three days that climbed up to near 90 degrees in the heat of the afternoon and I missed this crazy up and down of fall. I think that jacket weather is here to stay, but even as the cats claw at the door to go out and get some more time in the sun despite the cold, I think it is safe to say that the geese are going, going, gone.
It’s time to lean into some more great books, sharpen the carving knives, replenish the acrylics and clean the brushes. Time to go on some more antique picks and stock up on everything that will remind us of the warmth of early September. This year I’m still dreaming more and more of vintage Halloween decorations and scary movies. I like things, ideas and plotlines that glow in the dark and make you think about what might just be there…
