A red squirrel climbs the wrought iron pole to the bird feeders, finds nothing appealing and falls off. Or leaps to search for fallen rowan berries and the last of the grapes hidden beneath the vine's yellowing leaves.
Last night's rain and the sunlight wink and glisten on the leaves of the wisteria vine, the elm hedge and the sugar maple. The light plays, creates patterns of shade. Shadow copies of the leaves dance on the grass, deep greys on green.
Hosta leaves, touched with frost, droop now, brown tinged, wilting into the earth, turning themselves into compost for their winter's rest. The air is cool, smells crisp and fresh, smells like fall.
The sunlight slants through the dark green, waxy leaves of the saucer magnolia, makes it look different; it becomes a glowing, unreal, lime colour. The magnolia has had a good summer, has recovered from its breakage. Tender care and the duct-taped splint are a success.
Autumn changes, touches everything. Each shrub and tree, every vine and berry turns from one form of itself into another; transitions from one stage of its life cycle into another.
Me, too; I am changing, transitioning. I await the next change in my life, this new transition into another form of myself.
I hope to pass through this cycle of health challenges, perhaps a little browned at the edges, perhaps dry and rattly for a time. Like the magnolia, I hope to have a good season. I anticipate my physical self will look different, maybe it will sometimes seem unreal. But, I hope with tender care, I too will survive and become stronger.
May it be so.
Words and photo are copyright Carol Steel.
