SUDDENLY SOUTHERN
Fall 2002
What is it about fall? It's always been my favorite
season, and the one that feels briefest. I think I'm not alone in my love of
autumn, either. Winter around here can (and does) drag on endlessly. Summer,
while plenty wonderful in June and even July, has lost a lot of its appeal by
the middle of August when a lot of people are just sick, sick, sick of being
hot. It's not the heat, it's the humidity, right? I anxiously wait for the first
crisp sunny day that begs for a sweater and a walk outside through the crunchy
leaves, pulling in deep breaths of that fragrant air. I gladly admit to relief
that Indian summer - really nice for two or three days - is blessedly brief. I
am relieved when it moves on and leaves us again to the business of getting on
with fall.
We autumn-lovers are keenly aware that fall is already far
too short and has a nasty habit of disappearing overnight. We wait for weeks,
hoping for the first glimpse of fall color on the tip of a leaf, any leaf. And
then, aha!! There it is! We hold our breaths as autumn unfolds, praying that it
lasts and lasts, wishing that time could freeze right here for a long while. One
more week of this, I silently beg, and you won't hear a single complaint about
winter! (Well, until March 1st, anyway... )
When else is the sky that
rich deep blue it is in October? And the colors, the colors. The reds, the gold,
the yellows, the orange, the greens, the browns, the black - are a smorgasbord
for the eyes. Now, I'll grant you that spring is very pretty. The fresh green is
so tender and sweet and so bright. It's a celebration all by itself after a long
winter. Hey, I even get excited by a glimpse of black dirt peeking through the
snow in the fields around late March, you know? But face it, there's a lot of
mud. And summer is nice, but when you're out and about (trying to be invisible
to mosquitoes and other bugs and, of course, the sun), you pretty much see
green. Lots and lots of green. And flowers, of course, but mostly... green. As
for winter... Well, you know about winter. White.
But! Fall is an
explosion of color. Just pay attention sometime while driving through the
country. Did you even KNOW there were so many shades of earth tones? The corn is
gold, standing there in the black dirt, waiting for harvest. The wheat is
another lighter shade of gold, waving in the wind with heads bowed under the
weight of the grain. Beans are more yellow, and shorter glowing from fields
under the sunlight. The sumac is fiercely red against the grass still so green
on the hills. Goldenrod is blooming everywhere it can, and where there is
goldenrod, there are purple and burgundy aster-like blossoms nearby. And I
didn't even get to the trees yet!
I don't live in the mountains, or a
river valley (there's a creek nearby, though), or in New England, or even around
too many hills, actually. Mostly there is farmland around here. Vast spaces with
varied hues, spread out in neat squares except where the field was forced to
follow a natural contour or obstacle of some sort. Luckily, I don't have to go
far to be near one of several more 'scenic' areas if the mood strikes me. But
living here teaches appreciation for the beauty that surrounds an every day
normal sort of life. Even out in the fields, there are many large groves of
trees that blaze with color, and many acres of woods with plenty of wildlife.
And I defy anyone to find beauty lacking in a long avenue lined on both sides by
oaks and maples and birches in full autumnal glory, their canopies rising high
to heaven, their blanket of leaves on the ground below holding them to earth.
And what about kids and dogs and those piles of leaves? Huge mounds of
leaves raked up by kids who won't be this excited again till the first major
snowfall. Watching bodies leaping through the air to land in that
wonderful-smelling crunchy bed. Not quite as soft as it looks like it's going to
be, but... who cares? Rake it again, Sam - one more time, with feeling.
Pick up an autumn leaf sometime. The most brilliant one you can find.
And hold it up to the sun, so the sunshine is filtered through that amazing
color. See? Is there a God, or what?
Ahhh... fall. Color me happy.
Garden Closure
In my yard, I have begun a hopeful attempt at flower gardening.
In two years, it has made some progress amid several unexpected setbacks (who
knew rhododendrons could dry up and die in a WEEK?), and has grown already
beyond its humble beginning borders. And, of course, I already have plans for
further expansions next spring. Any day now I'll get out there and trim back all
the perennials, and move a few from apparently inappropriate spots to better
locations. Oh, and I've been meaning to plant some bulbs out there, too.
The annuals need attention - namely, removal. The sunflowers are still
mostly bright and yellow, but their drooping heads have made it necessary to
shove them out of the way to use the sidewalk, and that's getting very tiresome.
But it's just so hard to yank up those purple petunias while they're still so,
well, purple. The one surviving mum from last fall (did I mention I was new at
this?) is still gorgeous, so that gets to stay a while longer, too. The rest
will be covered in a blanket of mulched leaves, tucked in neatly for winter. The
small vegetable garden will be cleared out, the mulch and compost worked into
the soil for next year.
While I'm doing those chores, I'll be planning
for next year's improvements, already looking ahead to that first glimpse of
black dirt in March (did I say March? Silly me... make that April), mentally
reviewing which plants I will add next year to make the colors last longer into
the fall. I will also remind myself to remind myself again in May that I am
neither the most attentive nor ambitious gardener in the world, so low
maintenance choices are important. The road to an overgrown garden is paved with
good intentions.
I do not busy myself with gardening-related activities
for much of the winter. I don't like houseplants, and certainly don't grow any.
What I want is a break. The last thing I want to do next weekend is ensure
something's growth, especially something as confrontational, on a daily basis,
as a houseplant. The end of the gardening season is to me like the end of a good
concert, or play. You feel good, you turn away, and you think about it for a
while.
I can do a lot of thinking in five months. (Now where did that
seed catalog go... )
