Times Are Changing
It’s the sort of weather I normally snuggle cozily away from: blustery, temperature dropping, smelling like rain. But today, to mark the passing of the season, I put on a sweater over my pajamas and went out on the deck. Passing ships looked to be hurrying into port. There was still one hummingbird, being buffeted by the wind. A few flowers needed saving.
The madrona tree is going through its autumnal transformation, shedding its brilliant bark and revealing tender new skin. I identify with it, as I too am trying to remake myself this winter. I’m trying to re-learn how to live well in America.
It’s incredible to still have garden flowers in the middle of October, but I had a few. I snipped them carefully and arranged them in little French apéritif glasses on the dining room table. It’s time to put the garden and the grill and the smoker to bed for the winter, but I’m taking it slow. A snip here, another there, but no wholesale cleanup. I’ve been watering the Swiss chard, but soon I won’t have to: it’s going to rain, officially, after I believe 82 days without rain. And remember, this is Seattle, the Emerald City.
And speaking of green, is this the sexiest-looking tree you’ve ever seen, or what? Fresh, bursting forth from its tatters, glowing with newness, reaching for the sky, solid and strong. I want that to be me.
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