Posts tagged seasons

An Autumn Day in the Mountains

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I wake to the sound of the wind,

As it whirls through the rainbow of trees.

I feel the leaves falling around me.

Floating on the stiff breeze.

 

The last of my flowers still standing

Defying the first light frost.

Black-eyed Susan waving goodbye,

To their season, soon to be lost.

 

The walnuts clutter beneath the trees,

The animas rushing to store

The unusual bounty of mast crops

For winter is coming once more.

 

As much as I used to love Autumn,

Now, I feel only grief.

As I wait, and cry with a shiver,

For spring to bring some relief.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


			

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From the Bus Stop

In spring we watch, day by day as the snowball bush goes from a tangle of limbs to a magical green. Days pass and the blossoms of white start to appear and the green darkens among the growing snowballs. Weeks pass quickly ad we count the days until school is out. the snowballs, now so heavy that they weigh down the limbs have taken on a purple hue towards the middle ad the begin to wither and die.

Summer has come and we have watched the dogwoods change their shades of green leaves, observe the daily opening of the blooms, and
once again , watch them wither and die.

When summer has ended (way too soon) and we are back in the morning mist of August, we see that the Joe Pye Weeds are waving in warm winds beau the rushing stream.

Soon the dogwoods take on an increasing reddish hue and leaves of gold flutter down from the many deciduous trees on the hillside.
As the leaves fall from the dogwood trees, clumps of red berries have appeared in the frost where blossoms once sparkled in spring storms.

As we watch time go by, from the first buds of spring to the lushness of summer, the glory of autumn and snowdrifts of winter, my children and I realise how quickly tome goes by and how fast they are growing.

Like the seasons, we grow and change. Each age, each season having its own special beauty. As a tear rushed down my cheek when I think of how quickly my children ate growing, I look longingly at them and realise that soon, they will be watching the seasons change with their own .

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Cooking from the Grain to the Table

 

Mo’lasses!

I could smell the fragrance of the thick molasses all the way in the upstairs room my brother and I shared. My grandpa’s molasses making trays and tools were still tucked under the shed, waiting to be washed today before the bugs went crazy

The lightning storm that had crept up suddenly the night before had almost ruined this years molasses run, be together, our neighbors, my father and brother finished the load.

I don’t think any one who has never gone through the grinding of cane stalks, the shuttling of the sugary fluid through the zig-zag trays, or stood sweating in the August heat should be allowed to savor the incomparable taste of warm biscuits slathered in molasses!

When we were young, our family had a joke. If you asked for ‘lasses, that meant that you were asking for your first serving. If you wanted a second service you asked for “molasses!”.

Not many people get to see the metal trays set up for molasses making these days They done see horses turning the machine that grinds the stalks of sugar cane, they don’t watch the paddle moving the molasses along the divided trays above the flames. Indeed the love of molasses has nearly disappeared in some areas.

Oh, go on to the store, buy a bottle and try to imagine the making of molasses I have described, use the little honey stirring device to drizzle the molasses on your canned biscuits. I guarantee, you will get a glimpse of the way grandpa make then as you close your eyes and savor the first bite!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I could smell the fragrance of the thick molasses all the way in the upstairs room my brother and I shared. My grandpa’s molasses making trays and tools were still tucked under the shed, waiting to be washed today before the bugs went crazy

 

The lightning storm that had crept up suddenly the night before had almost ruined this years molasses run, be together, our neighbors, my father and brother finished the load.

 

I don’t think any one who has never gone through the grinding of cane stalks, the shuttling of the sugary fluid through the zig-zag trays, or stood sweating in the August heat should be allowed to savor the incomparable taste of warm biscuits slathered in molasses!

 

When we were young, our family had a joke. If you asked for ‘lasses, that meant that you were asking for your first serving. If you anted a second service you asked for “molasses!”.

 

Not many people get to see the metal trays set up for molasses making these days They done see horses turning the machine that grinds the stalks of sugar cane, they don’t watch the paddle moving the molasses along the divided trays above the flames. Indeed the love of molasses has nearly disappeared in some areas.

 

Oh, go on to thee store, buy a bottle and try to imagine the making of molasses I have described, use the little honey stirring devise to drizzle the molasses on your canned biscuits. I guarantee, you will get a glimpse of the way grandpa make then as you close your eyes and savor the first bite!

 

 

 

 

 

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The Desire to Live

 

The warmth of the sun propelled me towards my garden.

All winter, I had agonized over whether to even have one.

 

But the sun got to me, the 60 degree weather and out I went.

The grapevine needed to be moved-NOW. I didn’t know,

 

The roots were 6 feet long on three sides-what had I done?

I dug a hole for what I thought would hold the vine.

 

I dug up half my flower garden trying to save roots.

I replanted daffodils, some with buds, and stomped other plants.

 

They were trying desperately to peek above ground,

after a cold winter with a big snow only a week ago.

 

Spring does crazy things to me, It makes me think I am young.

I am strong-the girl in blue jeans and peasant shirts.

 

Then, a few hours later, I am struggling to make it to the house.

By July, all hope is gone, it seems. September brings a valiant cleanup.

 

Spring and gardens do something to me that I desperately need.

Somehow, we both have an unquenchable desire to live.

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Now I Know….

DSCN2081After the darkness,

Blue skies surround me

Clouds drift on the horizon

Drifting away at last

Every day is different

Fresh and exciting.

Gladly, I look for

Hovering bees and bugs

Ice melted at last.

Just one warm day

Keeps me hoping

Long after cold returns

Moonlight sparkles

Night times stars

Overhead-your head and mine.

Perhaps I treasure nature

Questioning it’s rhythms

Reining in its surprises

Turning from chill to warmth

Until I come upon the first

Violet, a sure sign of spring.

Wonder if other over it as much

X-citined as I am

You may know-tell me

Zestfully smiling.

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A Breath of Fall

We wait at the school bus stop in the summer sun. The air conditioner is on high at 7:30 a.m. It just cannot be that summer is over. There is a dogwood tree that I watch, next to a wild aster. They are my calendar, my watching, waiting for fall to come.

One foggy day, the dogwoods leaves have a tinge of red, now the berries show their cardinal souls. The aster that has looked like an ugly weed all summer explodes into a wild white bush, excited, thankful bees all around. Relax, close your eyes, fall has come.

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Changing seasons

As the heat of summer turns gently into fall, the deep green of growing leaves take on a tinge of scarlet.

I walk, slowly, deep in thought, down the narrow lane as rain drops begin to patter gently on the leaves far above me.DSCN2077

The rain drops mix with my tears as I remember how I loved these days. The birth of four sons during these months, the joy of life, growing so quickly as if every plant and creature knows that the time is coming for a long winter’s nap.

Now, I walk alone, the evil senseless nature of “life” having stolen one of my sons and the natural progression of time having me look up at my youngest son, six feet tall already and only fifteen.

I walk on. Some turkeys, who have become like pets, follow me along, knowing that I will feed them sunflower seeds. As they gobble and nod their heads, I think of how wild creatures survive and how hard I worked to feed 19 people for lunch today. I think of my six kids and how quickly time has passed. Now six grand kids are noisily ‘destroying’ my house.

 I stop to listen to my son and his friend tell about the bears they saw eating garbage up the road as the gentle raindrops cool my arms and cheeks. Up in the forest, I hear the crashing of branches and the crunch of leaves and I imagine that the bears are on the way down the mountain. I don’t hang around to find out.DSCN1983

 Summer is life, sweat, heat, the dreams of growing and hope of change. Autumn brings a chance to slow down, remember, smile and cry as well. Autumn always makes me reflect upon the past, some of it brings a smile, like the look of psychedelic leaves in the pasture as they shiver in the sun. Other times bring back the endless nightmare of watching my beautiful healthy son collapse on a ball field, never to come home.

 Suddenly, I remember 5th grade, a year filled with joys and sorrows, but sweetened by a school teacher who was one of the most amazing people I ever met. She taught me to love art, to believe in myself, to learn poetry that I have taught my children and grandchildren, and still remember today. Every year, on this day, I think of one of her poems, this one written by Edwina Fallis many years ago. The words float through my mind. It is called, simply, “September”.

                                                                     A road like brown ribbon,

                                                                       a sky that is blue,

                                                                    a forest of green,

                                                                       with that sky peeping through.

                                                                    Asters, deep purple,

                                                                     a grasshoppers call.

                                                                    Today, it is summer,

                                                                      Tomorrow, is fall.

 

I think how baseball took my son, his black obsidian stone shining from a hill side where it should not be for many, many years. I think of having to endure the brushes with my own death that loosing him caused, and how brave I have to be to let my younger son even go to a ball game.DSCN1416

Life and death, the mystery of which we will never know. Home. I hear the screen door as it creeks shut and I step back into the world that I often wish I didn’t have to live in. There are tiny smiles and tears living within my broken heart. There is joy and pain, the lovely simplicity with which nature creates miracles. There is the unspeakable grief that can turn a life into a nightmare.

Today, it is summer, tomorrow, it’s fall and then what? These are things we will never know, not even in our dreams.

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I’ve Seen Rain and I’ve Seen Heat

During a week when we have been cursed by floods like we haven’t seen in decades, I have been amazed at how the heat from a few hours of sunshine, mixed with the extreme humidity have affected us.

We spend our winters in the mountains, praying for warmth, the heat of a warm fire, the fragrance of smoke as it spits it’s sparks and curls of smoke drift across the room.

 In summer, we have spent years in a drought situation, accompanied by late frost, cold weather, name the weather curse.

 This year, its been rain, rain, rain. We are 14” over the average. We have been flooded daily for a week, the 4th of July caused major damaged, it has rained almost every day, the water has no where to go, creek banks have washed way, yards, fields, gold courses are lakes, and still it rains.

 I must admit that during a few hours of sun-temperatures only in the low 80’s, the heat felt overwhelming, with the humidity so high, it was almost visible. This is not the way we usually think of heat in July. But every few decades, the weather seems to sen us an often unwanted surprise.

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Haunting by the Rain Gods

On the 3rd of July, somebody prayed for rain. As usual, it didn’t quite work out like they hoped. On the 4th of July it rained 10 inches, rivers flooded, land was washed away, band new flooring ruined, shrubs, bushes, trash stopped up gutters. The next day, it rained, and the next and the next-maybe a while the sun would come out, people would start to clean, but then it would rain. Insurance companies are elated-this is the mountains-no one has flood insurance!

A week later-its raining buckets, bridges washing out again, yards and golf courses are lakes, banks caving off again. I’m quite sure the rain gods are haunting us! Could someone put up a stop sign, or build an arc?

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Rainbows and Susets-a Season’s Jester

Rainbows and Susets-a Season's Jester

Certainly, spring had arrived in the mountains, the trees are filled with blossoms, pale green leaves, a sprinkling of leprechaun green leaves that seemed determined to be first. Yet, the most striking sign of spring seems to be the sunset, orange, upon a tapestry of blue and gray. A rainbow, accentuating the palette of springs colors, with orange again, taking the lead. Looking out over the mountains, one can almost feel the warmth outside, after all, it is May. Yet looks can be deceiving. Just as orange reminds us of autumn’s chill, green reminds us of spring’s warmth. Yet today, it is 51 degrees outside. A sunset, a rainbow, a photograph, all can be jesters in natures bounty of life.

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