NOVEMBER HOURS

In the four years I’ve lived here on the lake, this is the first autumn that the burning bush under my front window actually turned to flame. Last year a lack of rain caused the leaves to wither and drop early, and before that, temperatures dropped too quickly and steeply, and the green leaves seemed to turn brown over night. I guess each of the seasons is the same in general, but unique in detail. This fall, everything happened in the right amounts, the right sequence, and the colors of my bushes, in fact all the trees in the area really blazed forth.


I took a walk around my house early yesterday, checking things out. The lake was perfectly still, and a couple of con trails above the thin line of Pelee Island on the horizon made a face in the sky that looked like the morning was sleeping in. After the recent strong winds, the red maples had really thinned out, and the lawn was once again littered with their large leathery brown leaves. As I walked towards the breakwall, one leaf on the ground stood out among the rest as being a much darker charcoal color. On closer inspection, it turned out to be the leathery foot and partial leg of a Canada goose. It seemed so shocking, lying there in the daylight. Who was it that carried that goose leg, perhaps from a kill it did not itself make, only to abandon it beneath my tree? What nameless, featureless second-hand predation went on when my friendly, bright yard was given over to the dark? Darkness comes early this time of year, and I’m quite happy to stay safely warm inside and let the snuffling wild creatures take their turn. This morning I walked out again, and the leg was gone. Nothing ever goes uninspected, unclaimed for long in nature. Such incidents probably happen around my yard all the time, and I never even know it.

At sundown, the geese gathered on the motionless lake, and sailed across the pillar of reflected light. Perhaps since was so still, they lingered out there where it's safe, waiting for the moon to rise.

KEEPING NOSE BARELY ABOVE WATER

It's been just crazy around here since my last post, and I'm missing checking in with all of your blogs, too! By the weekend everything should (hopefully) be back to something resembling normal, and I'll stop by. In the meantime, here's a really hilarious 30-second commercial that's running here in Canada. I hope it isn't too much of a buzz kill...we still have plenty of autumn ahead, right?






Video from YT member RoyaleCafe

FAREWELL (OSI)

SAY GOODBYE

another summer gone
the annual extinction of
each autumn day begins
a Mourning-cloak lies
fallen at the gate
wing margins in tatters
the wave of its life
sinking back into
the river of all living

the air is clear
and bright with molecules
of Caesar’s dying breath
of fresh-cut spruce
and the last faint sigh
of the old season


Visit ONE SINGLE IMPRESSION for haiku and other poetic responses to this prompt.
Photo from www.discoverlife.com

THE YARD IN LATE NOVEMBER

Redwing blackbirds nested in the big lilac this year. I was never quite sure exactly where the nest was located. I only knew it was there at all because of the reaction I got whenever I passed by, and they would come out to clack at me from the nearby honey locust. Now the birds are gone, and the little nest is quite exposed. I’m wondering how long, without the protection of the lilac leaves, before the winter gales off the lake bring it down. It surely wasn’t built to last. That would be a waste of energy, and Nature never does that.

Camouflaged in the faded grass between the back of the garage and the side of the porch, a female Cardinal lies, lovingly shrouded in golden leaves. There was no sign of a window strike or a predatory cat, so I think she may have died of natural causes. Cardinals are extremely pair-bonded, so somewhere there must be a bright male who will spend the winter alone. Hopefully, when spring returns he’ll find a new mate.

The increasingly cold weather has bleached the deep-hued, almost leathery leaves of the red maples, first to a fine sherry color, and now a dry tobacco brown. Then several days of high winds have sent them scurrying into the corner of the breakwall parapet for shelter. They can’t stay there; they’ll just dam up the drainage and make a mildew-y mess if left to over-winter. Soon the lawn man will come with his leaf blower and take them away for mulch.

All the patio furniture that can fit into the garage has been put away; everything left out will become an armature for snow sculptures. Eventually, wind will pile drifts up to the doorknobs, and the bedroom inside will be a little darker. Down below in the sandy soil are the sleeping eggs of crickets who sang me to sleep me all those humid summer evenings.

For now, the lake still has its voice - sometimes a roar, sometimes a murmur - but the silence of winter is coming, and one day it will be cold enough to hush every wave. But then the bustle of birds and squirrels jockeying for space at the feeder will fill my bootprints with scattered sunflower seeds, make me smile, and liven even the shortest, dreariest days.

HELLO OHIO!

It never ceases to amaze me, how different the lake can look. It changes with all the usual larger rhythms - the seasons, day to day, hour to hour. But even moment to moment the light changes, clouds shift, precipitation sweeps across my view. We had a few stray flakes earlier this afternoon. Now it looks like all rain or snow is in Ohio. Which is it? I can't tell from here.

A TOUCH OF FROST, A TOUCH OF MAUVE

Here in Canada's Deep South, we've had a few mornings lately when I've seen frost on the neighbor's shingles. The container plants I have on the back patio are dead, but this one that hangs in the front, tucked in close to the house, is still going. It's gotten a bit nipped by the frost, though, and it's leaves are turning a dusky purple. It used to be a bright gemstone green all over, but I think it looks just as pretty now. I thought I'd saved the plastic stake that came stuck in the pot with it, so I'd know what it was, but I can't find it. I'd like to get more next year; it did really well in its shady location. The flowers look sort of like a cross between a violet and lobelia, to my untrained eye at least. If anybody knows what it is, I'd love to hear! Anyway, there's a chilly rain falling this morning. My nameless plant likely won't last very much longer, so - here's to you, little plant; you made my porch look real pretty all summer, and you attracted the first hummingbird I saw since moving here three years ago. Ciao bella!

GOLD (OSI)

autumn cottonwoods
squandering their golden coins
on each passing breeze










As you can see, I have my computer back, complete with a brand new hard drive. There are still some things to work out, including locating a crucial missing file - a book manuscript that was due for publication next year, and represents 2 years work. Here's hoping it's on my backup hard drive; I don't even want to think about the alternative... At least the blog portion of things is working, so I can get back to posting here, and visiting all the blogs I enjoy - I missed you guys, and thanks for all those encouraging comments!

For more haiku and other poetic forms about the prompt "Gold" visit One Single Impression.

AUTUMN (OSI)

LIGHT, SOURCE

as the summer sun leans
heavily towards equinox
setting further south evening
by evening
the last threads of the season
unravel the valley reveals its
true self, backlit quantum universe

golden strands drift
randomly through the trees
energy trails
of invisible spiderlings
and bright pinhole gnats
zoom and zag their photon paths
across the void
then the oxbow way down
in the pasture takes to light,
spells out a gleaming omega

the sun dips even further
catches me full in the eyes
blinded by this glory, in the split-
second it takes to raise my hand
I stop being the observer
and everything for that moment
ceases



Finally, after several days, I have my computer back. Now I am treating it a bit gingerly, as one does a family member who has just got up from sickbed. Anyway, I hope we (my computer and I) can get back to full-strength blogging now!

The passage of time in nature is a well-explored subject for me. One day I must go back over all the poems I’ve written and do a tally of the solstice, equinox and other cross-quarter references. The photo here is another shot of the view from my previous home in Alberta. The poem was written in response to the same view, only on a different autumn day, with different lighting.


For more poetry inspired by this prompt, visit One Single Impression

POEM: ELK MOON

this is a moment on
the cusp of several
earthly and celestial
transitions: twilight and the days
between September and October
summer and winter
even the moon caught
between quarters

it’s the heat season
the antler time
elk horns raking the bush
in the semi-dark
the loud clicks and rattles
spreading out across the hills
fooling the ear
and the timid heart
with the sharp nearness of
their challenge

and above, the bright horns
of the crescent moon
stand out brilliantly against
the faded topaz remnant
of the day

hard by, Mars
presses its red visage closer and
the battle begins

Poem by Deborah Godin
Photo, Wikimedia Comons