I saw them today, just a few, but enough to let me know they are on the way. the rain had stopped and they were basking in the sunshine, tiny raindrops reflecting the shiny like so many diamond bits sparkling above. a bright splash of crimson. a small burst of golden honey. we are truly there. our days light waning, finding it's well worn groove, claiming it's rightful spot with just the smallest of sighs. Yet I find my mind is still eager to wander to thoughts of summer. to seek out the bright places and hold on tight. reach into the sunshine and wrap myself in it. to prolong the inevitable bruising of the season. I understand that this is the way it should be, has been forever, I'm just not ready yet. So lovely is the sun, I take my quiet time, to meditate, daydream, build castles in the air. breathe. deeply. and open my heart. I am happy in the knowledge that although I do not know the answers yet, I will, when the time is right. And so of course I do what comes natural to me and hope that it will be enough.
If you are ever given a choice between names like Autumn or Fall, by all means, pick the first one. Seriously, why would you not? just curious. autumnal equinox. so pretty. frou frou. a little more on the fussy side, I know but still! Really? just drop everything it's Autumn. Perhaps I should be a little more accepting, so I shouldn't label it with "this too shall pass" because, why would I want it to, but that's my nature? So let Autumn creep in. Yes, the days have been mostly bluster. chill settling in and rain. but the sky... Michelangelo worthy. Spectacular. Before and after. Dusk and dawn. scrapings from heaven's gift shop floor. And I find that before I venture out, I am looking high and low for that hoodie missing in action these past few months. Soon for mittens, scarves and boots, but we will leave that for another day. When the cold becomes more than just a kiss on my cheek.
The last of summer's roses are shivering in the breeze, hanging their heads and fading beauty. No longer the queen ruling her garden. sighing in sadness and planning for spring. such grace and dignity. I kid you not. I didn't even bribe her. didn't even have to plant the seed although I might add an extra scoop of mulch to comfort her during her beauty nap, you know, to prevent her feet from getting cold. she is amazing. has it all figured out. no worries though, her method is foolproof. You need only to tuck her in, help put her to bed. Other than that, she needs no minding. I am never this prepared. Come to think of it, everything should be this easy. But the one rule with roses, is that when they announce themselves, when they return late spring, you must come running. stop everything. inhale. pause and admire. make a fuss.This shouldn't pose a problem. But it is crucial.
And there are leaves! Have I mentioned the leaves? All green since May, now going on parade. don't think I haven't noticed. It just can't be helped. and while I didn't actually plan it, by now I'm kinda diggin' it. you can always look away, ignore it. but then, you would miss the show.
I am once again speaking fluent knitting. naturally, given my love for it I never stopped, but now, now I am doing it up a storm. I know yarn weights. I can tell at a glance my wools from acrylics. use angora even though it leaves a trail of angel dust everywhere. I can use needles without supervision. I always check for dropped stitches. I am mad about Fair Isle,Intarsia, Entrelac, and cables. the soft fetching drape of a 5 ply cashmere. And Argyle, I tip my needles to you. I believe that my knitting baskets everywhere are part of the decor, same as lamps and nick-knacks. Then of course there is the stash. not a small matter to be sure. a whole closet full. walk-in. over flowing. If you knit, you know what I am talking about. Piles, stacks, boxes and bags of yarn. some older than my first born. Brentwood I'm talking about you. all weights. all colors. all bought with the best of intentions. and needles, please don't even get me started, 8 pairs of size six alone. complete first set I ever got. when I was five. I still have them. they are well loved. cherished even. And projects. obviously. why else the stash!
I am still not in love with fall. still... I just might be tip-toeing toward like. And I can admit it is a thrill to see. I can't help but be drawn to certain magical events that happen. The way the landscape seems to set itself on fire. each changing leaf an inventory of every sunny day since May. the same could be said about the outside decor. pumpkins. scarecrows. mazes. non-stop orange. the only alternative seems to be hibernating until spring. that just seems irresponsible. and rude. over here we are still gearing up for one humdinger of a show. fall sure knows how to put on a fine display. look upon it now! oh, my! *I know*! so there it is. I lay at it's feet. firmly planted in the I-did-not-know-I-liked-it category.
Summer, however, belongs to that lovely-makes-me-happy category, which I've long loved for the better part of, well~always! Better, it's a perfectly put together season, each element awfully vital, John-Paul-George-Ringo-style. The buttery sunshine plays off the longer days, which cozies up to the dreamy blue skies like nobody's business. Toss in a heap of those carefree days, beach trips and fresh fruits and veggies galore, and you've got yourself some serious happy. Possibly, enough to last through the frozen months. it’s about transitions, big, wild, rocky ones, especially at the outset. You know how it goes, and as the green sinks back down into the earth again, and everything outside my window falls into a restfulness, except perhaps my pounding heart, I will be sweeping away the cob webs that found their way through my open Summer doors, shaking out the wrinkles, and with a tiny sigh I will open my eyes and listen. gently. as Autumn eases me into it. softens the blow. then BOOM! there is a certain charm, bewitchery if you will. Still,I am so late to this party, but better late than never. Right? baby steps dude, baby steps.
butter + cinnamon + sugar = cake