The Tapestry

Each day I savor the little things, because like the threads that knot together a magnificent tapestry, they make the pattern of my life.

Drum Roll Please

The American poet, Robert Frost Carl Sandburg, said that fog comes in on little cat feet.  We were driving on the Pennsylvania Turnpike after Thanksgiving and find that winter comes in following a drum roll!

Yellow and Green

I will be in a car on the day of Thanksgiving traveling north into possible snow in the coming days.  Nothing like forcing early winter into my psyche.  May your Thanksgiving, if you celebrate, be filled with good fellowship and understanding in the company of those you love.  If that cannot be arranged, may you have peace.  Below are some hosta photos and their changes in my yard these past two weeks that were so lovely I had to post them.

 

Late Dinner

Last evening hubby headed out on a 'fishing' trip in the canoe with the small 30-year-old motor attached. There are no fish this time of year in our river, but he was winterizing the engine with some chemical and decided to take advantage of such a lovely day.  Not warm, but not cold,  just right.

He "drove" around in circles for a while making sure the motor had coughed its way into agreement and submission and then then waved and asked me not to hold dinner.  (I had been holiday shopping and was too tired to join him...OR make dinner, thus, was in total agreement with the late day plan.)

As I have written, there are no fish this time of year, but he doesn't really care.  The fall has been much too nice to waste even one evening and he is more fish than man.

I took this from the other side of my dock while listening to a kingfisher chastise me with his machine gun song while he sat to my back and high above.  Kingfishers are only brave when they are behind you and can flee.  Later as I was heading back to the house he must have seen some small fish because he hit the water with such a pop I thought he might have injured himself.  Nothing subtle about this bird.

I must start sorting all the fall photos that my addiction has made me too greedy to delete.

Dying

I am slowly accepting the fact (as I have many autumns before) that I cannot preserve summer's beauty no matter how well I plan or protect.  I did go outside yesterday and try to cut most of the new rose buds before we get our first frost...which currently is a long ways off according to the weather report.  When I pick the buds this time of year after they have held through the cold nights they usually last only a few days and burst forth into fat open blooms when placed in my warm house and in normal water.  By the end of the week they are dropping rose petals everywhere as if throwing confetti to remind me the party is over, but to compensate for their messiness, they smell really, really sweet in the autumn!  Their short lived beauty is a reward.

Even though I cannot choose colors or sizes of blossoms at this time of year for the perfect asymmetrical bouquet, they do give me pleasure in their simple country style as I clump them together.  It is a more comfortable style...like winter slippers.

Later in the same afternoon I peruse my summer annuals outside, and even though they are retreating from the weather, I think they still have a certain beauty about them.  These zinnias look a little like impressionistic paintings done by the artist who saw the perfect flowers earlier in the month and then attended a carnival that evening.   Upon waking he grabbed his bright paints and did these.

As I venture further into the more open fields where the weather is harsher I find that even the end of the wild flower has its perfect moment before snow brings her down.  (I do not know what these are/or were.)

Each season certainly has its own reward.

Sometimes

Sometimes Fall is late to the party and arrives after all has dried and crumbled to gray and brown.  The only noise in the air is the bold cry of the crows. All Fall sees as she coasts over the surface is the leftovers of the celebration scattered hither and yon in all their crackly glory.  Sometimes Fall arrives too early and finds everything green and slimy and slippery.  Then the leaves ignore her bidding and cling dirty black until the winter winds tear them from their watchful posts.

But some years she arrives exactly on time and dressed in her best dress with her hair and make-up exactly in place.  She makes an entrance as only the Belle of the Ball can do and we stop in our tracks to admire her beauty and fawn over her timing.  We line up to be added to her dance card and we feel so lucky to have her attention for even such a short time.   (Click on photos for blogger to give you a close-up.)

My Milkweed

Above are two forms of the same plant when it gets ready to redistribute its seeds. The green pod at the top is full of the same seed as the one at the bottom, but not quite ready to show its fecundity.

A close up shows how many, many seeds must be produced for this plant to survive. These seeds do not produce in abundance in my yard...at least yet. Maybe as the plants settle in I will have many more popping up. Notice how neatly they are laid against one another. A tile of snuggled reproduction. Tight and symmetrical so that there is room for as many as possible. Then as the season moves on and the days warm and dry...

...the pod will explode into this fire cracker of fluff that will carry these seeds far from the mother plant on any fall breeze.  These little white parachutes are as soft to the touch as they look.  They grow wild with abandon in many of the parks where I walk and hike and it is fun to help distribute their future with grandchildren.

Sustenance After the Storm

The birds have made themselves visible with the fall of the leaves and the arrival, like a big cruise ship, of a cold weather front. I need to up my game on getting better focus instead of just snapping photos while my teeth chatter...but these are the lazy woman's collection which will have to suffice for now.

The lyrical wren.

The noisy shushing nuthatch.

The hypocritical robin...He put that there, I do not know why he pretends to be surprised.

The thirsty brother.

The robins came in waves and proceeded to overwhelm the water dish leaving behind a dark ring of calling cards all over the deck.  Yuck!

The Artist

I can photo shop all I want but I cannot improve on the beauty that Autumn brought to my yard this week.  Pick a color...rust, blue, yellow, green... and decorate your life.

Old Goat?

(This was written before Sandy and scheduled in the event I lost power.)

I was throwing things into my purse and getting ready to head out and vote early in our presidential election a week ago.  I knew with the coming Frankenstorm, as the National Weather Service labeled the collision of a hurricane, a cold front and a southern rain front, that on this day the lines would be long as they were every where for everything from getting money, to food, to gasoline to stocking up on that essential booze.   Americans thankfully were also willing to stand in long lines to vote early. (I was in line for an hour and a quarter before I reached the voting booth.)  Prior to heading out, I glanced out my dining room window and saw a goat grazing at the edge of the lawn. What on earth?

It was still dark in the early fall morning and my old eyes convinced me that this might also be an escaped exotic animal of some sort.  There is a llama farm a few miles away.   I watched as it wandered from one side of the oak tree to the other before it emerged unafraid into the clearing.

Yes this is a little blurred as it was taken through a double paned window.  I did not want to get out on the deck and scare it until I had been able to watch it for a while.  Most of you now know what this is,  a pie-bald deer.  They are rare, but not as rare as an albino deer.  They are usually born from large herds and also born with various genetic defects that will give them greater challenges to survive.  They are not shunned by the herd because unlike humans, outside color does not matter to this species.

Her legs seem short to me in relation to the rest of the body.  Her hearing was excellent as when I went on the deck to get this shot she heard the click of the camera and looked around.  BUT she did not see me if I was totally still, so her eyesight must also have some defects.  She still is the most interesting symbol I saw on the day of early voting representing to me how varied our voters are!