Rake and Palette

Autumn gales complete the purge of trees’ adornment. The howling winds scatter fallen leaves hither and yon,  irrespective of property lines — a suburban dilemma. The garden has succumbed to the change of season. Thin light casts dramatically long shadows at the extremes of the shortened day.

Some flora hang on, despite frost and feeble light. For example, parsley persists. So do straggly roses. Of course, there are the decorative autumn perennials (kale, asters, chrysanthemums, sedum).

They are pretty but they do not signal survival.

Winter is in the wings, practicing its lines, ordering blankets and arming its fairies. We overlay Christmas shopping and gift-giving to obscure one of the most terrible mysteries – the end and the return of light. At its lowest ebb, winter days are absurdly short compared to barbeque season, especially if you’re a late riser (c’est mois).

This Thanksgiving I’m grateful for the four elements (air, earth, water, fire) and the luxury of time.

I’m grateful for chickadees, goldfinches, downy and red-bellied woodpeckers, tufted titmouse, cardinals, dark-eyed junkos and, crap, even squirrels (because they’re so, frickin’ clever).

I’m so grateful for: my son and his partner who celebrated in my garden in anticipation of their marriage; my wife who finds her own solace in the garden; my friends who enjoy it with me; and my blogging partners who’ve aided and abetted this website.

The winter whirls the windmills 'round
She winds his muffler tighter,
They sit in the kitchen
Some tea with whiskey keeps away the dew*

*The Dutchman