A Change of Seasons

Jasper and I headed out into the garden this morning, mostly to enjoy the invigorating wind that had whipped up and was blowing the already branch dizzy leaves off into the blue, their flight to freedom short lived as they were to only land on our grass before making the final hurtle over the fence.

It was time to say thank you, for all the pleasure the garden has given over this past summer; time to say goodbye to those plantings that will go deep into their roots, gaining strength for yet another season, not yet here; time to smile at those stalwart evergreens that will bear the weight of the heavy rains and snow of winter, as well as the bitter winds that blow in from the North.

The colours right now are quite beautiful; there is an ease and maturity and nobility about Autumn that is quite elusive to bright and cheeky, energetic Spring. Both of these Seasons bring change, just a different kind.

I always feel my best when I am outside in my garden. I've known for years that the 'real me' is to be found in a pair of overalls and a plaid shirt, securing the notion that with my Scots heritage I really am quite 'tweedy' by nature. If I didn't look such a fright when I did it, I would probably be quite happy mucking about for weeks on end, hair back in a bandana and gum boots at the ready by the door.

I have noticed that the older I get the more I seem to appreciate the beauty of Autumn. There is a slower pace, a 'cosying' up that comes with it that I appreciate so much. The trace of lingering fog in the early morning that the warmth of the sun has not yet chased away; the air laden with that peaty, smokey scent that seems to be such a part of the area that I live in. I love the dampness underfoot and the moistness in the air and how oatmeal just seems so right to begin an Autumn day!

As I walked through my garden I found a planting that I had placed during a Season when my boys were both young and still about my feet; then I stopped and gazed up at the Honey Locust that we planted as I entered into the season of being a gramma - we call it the Gramma tree, in the shade of which my granddaughter and I will sit during the warmer days yet to come and read to one another, or perhaps just giggle about nothing in particular for absolutely longer than necessary!

Both of these Seasons have brought change, just a different kind.