Falling into Fall

"Mare's tail" clouds above the metal roof of the log home on HeartSong Farm.

Fall has always been my favorite of the year's seasonal cycles.  I love the feel of the air as the temperatures begin to change, cooling down from those of the summer.  It is crisp and vibrant, matching the colors of foliage beginning to change into a fall wardrobe, and the fragrance of fall produce like apples, pears and oranges.  There is the hint of wood smoke in the air which brings a smile as I look forward to being inside for the next few months where I will spend good times baking and making soups and stews.  It is the Autumn time that makes me feel most domestic, a feeling that carries over into the winter, until the seed catalogs arrive and I begin to plan my spring garden.  And, of course, it is the time of football.

One of many butterflies that have passed through on their fall migration this year.

But, more than anything else, Fall is a time where I look back as well as forward, before the hibernation of winter sets in.  I look around and see what I have accomplished and what I have left unfinished, what the future holds and what parts of the past I can finally put aside.  There is excitement, joy and sadness.  I always get a bit down and depressed as Fall approaches during the last weeks of Summer.  This year was no different.  I have to let it all wash over me and play itself out, trusting that on the other side of my intense gloom is that blue sky, the crispness in the air, and homemade soups to be enjoyed.

During this time, I lean heavily on dear friends, and on the following quotation attributed to Julian of Norwich, a mystic of the British Isles who lived from 1342 to 1416.

"All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well." 

One reason for my depression is that September is the month my first son was born 37 years ago.  He has been away from home, on his own, since 1997, and I have not gotten to see him even once a year since then because of where he has lived and worked.  We talk often, usually for an hour or so, but it really isn't the same as seeing him, hugging him, or cooking for him!  September also brings back other memories that haunt me and are not for these pages.  

Recently, my friend, Elik, shared a Navajo prayer chant with me that has really touched my soul. When I step out onto my back porch, feel the fresh air around me, and look out over my back pasture, I cannot help but know its truth:  "All around me, my land is Beauty."  I am blessed. 

The back porch at HeartSong Farm.  The door next to the porch swing leads to my bedroom.  The

door to the far left goes into the den and kitchen.

As I look towards the back pasture, the back pasture looks back at me!  That's Texanna in the forefront, with Moonshadow on the left, and Armando on the right.  Reading their thoughts is quite easy:  "Does she have the white bucket of treats with her? Huh?  Huh?"

The goldenrod is blooming, attracting butterflies first, and later, finches and
cardinals will enjoy the tiny seeds.

Cardinal vine, morning glory, and coral bells bloom on the arbor near the

back porch, inviting bees and hummingbirds from late summer into fall.

During this past week, as the official beginning of Fall arrived, I was brought out of my depression by two things. First, there was lunch with friend, Judy, who is a great listener and is always supportive.  She is also talented at making me laugh even when I think I can't.  Second was the first sighting in town on Monday, and later in the week outside my bedroom window, of the annual blooming of "naked ladies"!  Some people know them as spider lilies, but many of us in the South grew up calling them "naked ladies" because they pop up almost overnight and have no visible leaves.  

Spider lilies, aka "naked ladies," outside my bedroom window.

I love how they appear magically.  How can you not smile when you see them?!  Especially when you have completely forgotten they are there until, all of a sudden, there they are!  And they are so joyful-looking!

I have a wonderful memory of these Fall flowers that centers around my Daddy, who had a very wicked sense of humor.  When I was about 5 years old, in Shreveport, Louisiana, my Daddy said he wanted to show us something after church.  Something, he said, that he had seen on Friday on his way to and from work.  

My mother rode in the front seat of our old "Woodie" station wagon, dressed primly for church as usual, while two of my brothers and I rode in the back seat.  We rounded the corner in an old residential area and pulled up in front of a charming white house with a yard completely covered in spidery red flowers, so many that hardly any green grass was visible anywhere.  It was what we would label "totally awesome" today.  And my Daddy said:

"Have you ever seen so many naked ladies in all your life?!  I know I haven't!"

And my mother hit him with her purse and said:  "Take us home right now, Edwin!"  My Daddy turned around in the driver's seat and grinned.  My brothers and I giggled in the back seat all the way home.  

Fall is here on HeartSong Farm!

Transitions

It has been rather blustery here on HeartSong Farm lately.  The transition between summer and autumn, and then autumn to winter has been unusual everywhere in the United States, and East Texas has been no different.  The dry hot summer lasted a bit longer than what the calendar told us was fall, and then winter got here sooner than December 21.  We had our first hard frost on November 13th preceded by some really good hard rains.  This combination of events seems to have blessed this area with an unusually colorful fall landscape.  Along the highways, byways, and streets of my town there were significantly more reds, oranges and yellows mixed in with the more prevalent evergreens of the Piney Woods area of Texas.

East TX fall foliage

The cold snaps have come one right after another until I have lost count.  Most of those came with rain, lots of it, causing all of us around here to remark, "Oh, why couldn't we have had some of this rain during the summer when we really needed it?!"  I have had to scramble to construct portable greenhouses for my winter vegetable garden, buy winter hay for the llamas, and keep the bird feeders full....all before I was prepared to do so.  This transition was a bit too abrupt for me.  It seems my favorite time of year had been squeezed tightly between summer and winter, wham! bam!, with little time to adjust between hot and cold.  This is not easy on my aging bones and joints!

Oak leaves beginning to turn

Even so, I enjoy watching the transitions from one season into another...just one of the many circles of life and the cosmos.  When it is cold and frosty, I look out the back porch windows to see steam rising from the backs of the llamas as the sun rises.  Their escaping breath, warm and moist, makes me think of dragons breathing smoke.  The flurry of activity at the bird feeders on cold days is nonstop.  There are cardinals, juncos, wrens, goldfinches, purple finches, chickadees, titmice, chipping sparrows, cardinals and pine siskin, all puffed up,coming and going on the feeders and suet basket. Watching the antics outside my dining room window, it occurs to me how similar to humans these feathered creatures can sometimes be:  some play nice, some don't. On the ground below all the commotion are a dozen tiny Inca doves, the kind my Daddy called "chi-chis," politely and methodically pecking at the seeds that have fallen from the feeders.

Bayley staying warm in the sun

Bayley, my very old Pembroke corgi (he is 13 years plus), is spending most of his days and nights curled up in his warm comfy house by the back door, coming out only when the sun is high and the concrete of the back porch has gotten warm. Inside, my three cats (Jessie, Axl, and Godfrey) take turns sitting in or near the dining room windows to observe the busy puffed up birds at the feeders, or else curled up in a favorite spot, most likely dreaming of catching those same birds.  I suspect this because I see them licking their lips and twitching their whiskers in their sleep!

This week my winter garden greens were ready to begin harvesting and enjoying with roasted sweet potatoes and acorn squash from the produce stand.  I have never had a winter garden before, and so there was a transition in my raised beds from summer veggies to those of winter.

End of the summer garden

Mustard, beets, and turnips in my first winter garden

Not only did this promise to supply me with some delicious fresh produce during the colder months, it also gave me a chance to try my hand at building some small, portable hoop houses out of PVC pipes and 6 mil plastic sheeting before diving into the construction of a walk-in sized greenhouse next spring.  I am gradually practicing and preparing, you see, for my retirement in 2016 (31 more months!) when I will be able, at last, to begin living my lifelong dream of being as self sufficient and self reliant as possible within my physical boundaries.  Baby steps, baby steps.....

About a week before that first cold snap in early November, I spent a week in an unusual fog of sorts. I felt very quiet inside and out, slightly sad, and I seemed to be moving and thinking in slow motion in my workplace and at home on the farm. At first I thought it was the impending holiday season since I have a history of being depressed during that time in varying degrees, but I was actually quite calm and rather peaceful.  By Wednesday, I realized that what I felt was akin to being in a walking meditation.  I could think of no better way to describe this strangeness that had come over me.

I had also been sleeping better than I had in recent months, and when I woke up Saturday morning on the sixth day of this phenomenon, the odd feelings were gone, and I "knew" what had taken place.  My gut was telling me that I had gone through some form of Transition, and although I was not sure exactly how, my life had changed and, now 64 years old and heading into my "crone years," everything was going to be alright for me.  I felt comforted and joyful even with the cold and drizzling rain outside my windows, and with this realization the fog was lifted.

Life is good on HeartSong Farm!