.....I can't keep up. Recently time has caught me unaware. I seem to be marking the calendar off in weeks rather than days. Something tells me the condition could be age related, but if so, then why does it seems to be happening to others much younger than I? I keep meaning to work some down time into my day. A few meaningful thoughts in the quiet of the morning. A deep breath, and slow exhale during those times when I'm impatiently waiting on others. I hate it even more when I let others seemingly waste MY time.
The Equinox even came and passed without ceremony this year. The days marking the changing of the seasons are special to me. For me they serve as a cultural recognition of the progression of natural life. "For Everything there is a Season"... I think it helps keep human kind on track, especially in an age where so many don't have access to the life cycles in their everyday lives. The artificial means of sports seasons and educational institutions have been altered and extended to the point where they no longer are distinctive. Here on the farm, we can't help but notice. The cool evenings command the wool blankets return to the bed (the closing of windows is delayed as long as possible). The tomatoes have set at last, but now refuse to ripen. The threat of frost has already prompted the harvest of the sweet potatoes, which was probably a good thing, as we got them before the voles did more damage. And the last crop of the season was good this year.
The sounds of September are heard daily. The tapping of acorns as they drop on the tin roof of the lamb shed, and the occasional flapping and squawking of the blackbirds as they gather, and swoop down into a chosen tree, darkening the sky in a fluid motion, raising memories of 'The Birds'. Also heard is the occasional 'thud', a hollow echo unique to the season. The rams are rutting. Hormones rule in the cool.
We have added new members to the flock, and now we have a whole new flock. Turkeys. No, I'm not disparaging the ewes. (Who are now all dressed- hopefully in their final attire for the winter, and their fleece condition was noted - impressive)
No, the flock that has been frequenting the pasture, the lane, and even the barnyard are wild turkeys. They are fun to watch, but oh so stupid. They have provided entertainment many mornings as they pace the fences, time after time, until they finally remember they can easily fly over. By the next morning (or fence), they have forgotten, and the pageant is repeated.
Dolly has developed a liking to herding the new flock. She wasn't sure at first. I think she was afraid she would get in trouble. But after a little encouragement, she decided it was great sport.
So last Monday, 5 lovely ladies came rolling in, and we spent the lovely fall day dyeing in the sun. Well, ok, so actually in the shop, in the microwave, but the effect was the same. We ate Epicurean, with the assortment of foods they had brought. We told some 'girl' stories, and laughed. They painted, dabbled, cooked and rinsed. And then we posed in front of some of the days dyeing on the clothesline. And then they took home the tassels and scarves and yarn, now sporting the colors of the season. They have told me they had a good time, which was all I had really hoped for, and are ready to do it again.
I did - today. I dyed some of my new wool I got at Pendeltons, and can't wait to get started on some of the projects already inspired. Better get to it. Just hope time slows just a bit so I can catch up.
Autumn marks the end of the growing season for most, and is met with regret. But I have come to see it more of a relief. A chance to pause in the midst of harvest to acknowledge the fruits of labor. And be glad.
In a matter of days, the crops have gone brown. But I see them not as dead, but done. Well done. I can only hope the same will someday be said of me.
Here's hoping I can at least do better with my posting, now that the evenings are shorter, and outside chores require completion earlier. Maybe I can catch a few sun rises and sets for motivation.
Happy Harvesting to all.
