Ode to Autumn

"Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods,
And day by day the dead leaves fall and melt,
And night by night the monitory blast
Wails in the key-hole, telling how it pass'd
O'er empty fields, or upland solitudes,
Or grim, wide wave, and now the power is felt
Of melancholy, tenderer in it's moods,
Than any joy indulgent summer dealt."
William Allingham

We leave November in two days and then the countdown to Christmas has started. (I fear it actually started the day after Thanksgiving). This year I am slow getting into the Christmas season. I am still relishing autumn. After living in a second floor mini apartment for 3 years and now moving to a house with large airy windows my senses are awakened. I don't want the rainbow of colors to end.

Our precious sapling that we have been diligently watering for several months turned a brilliant orange right before we left for Thanksgiving. As if it were his child performing in a school play my husband took a whole roll of pictures of this tree. It stands in our front yard: the first and last thing we see as we wake and then lock up for the night. This week however, it's leaves have started to fall. It looks so vulnerable.

I will miss many things about autumn: pumpkins; butternut squash; the bright yellows, reds, and oranges; the sound of leaves being swept into a heap; pumpkin beer; and the brilliant sun set against the crisp air.