November 22, 2005 ~ An Unusual Autumn
Tuesday.
This is a WordGoddess collaboration, "colors."
Morgan and I on our porch, October 28th
By mid October, I was puzzled. By late October, I was worried. And when November came and the mountainsides were still almost completely green, I was scared that my favorite season would simply never make an appearance this year. Usually the leaves have at least started to turn by mid September. And they tend to peak early to mid-October. They're usually all gone by late-October. Still green in November? It was freakish.
When the redbud trees out front of my office started blooming of all things, I was really confused.
The temperatures were still high through late October, and then a sudden cold snap made it seem as if summer would pass straight to winter with no transition. Leaves were going straight to brown and crumpling from the trees with no colorful display. The hot humid days of summer had gone directly to the frosty days of winter with that harsh bite in the air. Where were the brilliant clear blue skies of Autumn? Where were the gorgeous colors that turned the forest canopy into an incredible stained glass window? Where was that mild and clean air with its chilly (but not cold) breezes? The only autumn that we had rested in that characteristic slanting golden light, which looked bizarre against the green, green leaves.
Morgan half-joked that autumn was waiting for the baby this year.
November 2nd, first hints
But then, hints started popping up. A few spots of red in the green expanse of burning bushes on Sunderland lawn. The dogwoods all started to turn red at once. The leaves coating the ground had color to them, rather than an expanse of brown. And the air turned into that delicious clear air of Autumn with its brilliant blue skies.
November 8th, and the colors come
By mid-November, finally, the forest canopy was my beloved stained glass window of light and color. Yellows and reds and purples swirled together with my favorite--striking orange. And in the gaps, shocking blue sky.
Autumn is my favorite season. The time of year that I feel most alive and vital. I had been looking forward to being pregnant midst those colors, looking forward to birth with clean autumn air around me as inspiration. A chill in the air, leaves crunching at my feet, and beauty abounding. Harvest and the close of another fertile year. What more fitting end to a pregnancy? The colors around me vibrant, the life inside the same.
I savored those days, when fall finally came, drinking up the golden light and savoring the colors.
Morgan and I attended the last of our childbirth classes. And, like the furious rush of all the wild creatures to prepare their winter dens, to eat enough to last the winter, to gather stockpiles of food against the cold, we gathered the last of the essential baby supplies and put together the homebirth kit. We finished household projects, put children's books on shelves, sterilized birth supplies, weatherized the windows.
The woods were filled with the rustling of squirrels; the bears disappeared.
All too soon, the leaves grew quite thin, our panorama views of the mountains returned for the winter. Today, there are still spots of color, but they are hard to see through the thick snow falling. This snow will not stick, first snow rarely does, but winter is now here.
And we are ready. Not just for winter but also for a whole new life, born upon a draft of chill air and the last of the falling leaves.
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