Fall is upon me, its face a mixture: the sunny yellow of the cottonwoods and native elms lining Oklahoma creeks, the burgundy reds of sumac and the burnished copper of Blackjack Oaks.
Rainy days which nearly drowned spring are long gone, and rusty sand slides between my fingers. So much to do before I put the garden to bed. Way too many bulbs to plant, and I’ll feel my folly when fingers freeze in November soil.
No gain without pain because soon spring will again return and tell a story of red and purple tulips with dark purple violas. At least, that’s what I see in my mind’s eye. Only time will tell.
I walk along dirt pathways and listen to the wind whispering through the trees and know this golden time won’t last. Best finish my chores. Make more leaf mulch. Place it and Back to Nature on the beds and borders to nourish quiet plants while they sleep.
But, pathways also beckon me forward with camera in hand for burnished autumn moments pass like a falling leaf on a late October wind.
So do our lives.
Rejoice in the moment and give praise to whom it is due.