Next Year...

I say in my mind that "I will get to that next year" and then realize with a blunt insight that I do not have that many "next years" left.  Each year may be a "last time" to set something right or correct a wrong or indulge a dream or attempt a hard-to-reach goal.  Each year is always more precious than the last one.  Each year is just a row of stitches in a large tapestry on which the distant prior edges are becoming more and more frayed and more faded in color.  Age and passage of time does have a way of bringing us up short, does it not?

The Season of Greetings

Merry Christmas, Happy Hannukah, Happy Holidays for all celebrations, dear readers!

Still lost

Still trying to figure out why my new posts do not show up in my Blogroll gadget as well as those of most of my readers. So this Ent is just posted to reflect my dismay.

Seems Like Just Yesterday

The air smelled dusty,

a pungent herby fragrance

that rides in with late October sunshine

and placed a soft kiss against my cheek.

A breeze tickles the saltbush seeds

and like whispers some lift away

their feathery arms extended wide

with gay abandon onto the next adventure.

The seeds tickle my face as they twirl
down to the edge of the river

to collect like early snow

riding the water's edge

to their new home.

Procrastinating leaves rattle with autumnal 

sounds fighting the breeze.

I also linger just a while longer

and play peek-a-boo with the 

waning warmth of the setting sun.

Those Sexy Bandits Have Arrived

They arrived in larger numbers than usual and actually stopped by the bar for a quick drink before hiding in the holly trees.  (All taken through a window, so not super sharp.)

The water was frozen everywhere.  This was one of the few places where the water was not frozen and not ice cold!  Glad that they were tempted.  

The females arrived with their hair(feather)do perfect for the holiday season.

It was pretty cold even though the wind had dwindled to a small breath which only fluffed the tops of the head now and again.  And some of them were puffed up like butterballs.

They usually have yellow tips at the end of the trail and this one is red!  I thought that had something to do with gender, but I could not find information on that.  Hope they stay a while longer.

The Crazy Head Dance

As the golden yellows and blushing oranges and burning reds disappear from the landscape, they leave behind the holly dark greens and the tough oak leaf browns.  This signals the trees to do that crazy head shaking dance, to rid themselves of scratchy and rugged leaves.  They wait for the push of a storm and then toss those branches from side to side high above me sending unbreakable discs into my face and scuttling at my feet.  

My lawn is carpeted with crunchy sound alarms that squirrels set off in their hunt for a place to bury a nut.  My deck is blanketed with leathery oak leaves that grab my socks and make it inside the house or that catch a breeze and swirl across the room before I can shut the door.  Soon the inside looks like the outside as they gather in a corner of the room.

This is the pre-show to get you ready for winter.  There is no going back now.