It is the end of September in New England and the steady sound of chipmunks and occasional chirping of birds adds to the constant but soft sounds of crickets. Last year’s crop of acorns did not increase the chipmunk or squirrel population around this tranquil home, but the rabbits have been abundant and make their presence known.
I am sitting beside the koi pond, and the steady stream of water as it trickles down the small hill to the pond is relaxing. I had planned to make peach chutney but was motivated to come outside and write, knowing that in a few short weeks when we turn the clocks back it will be creeping closer to dark at this time. Better to make use of this daylight in late afternoon, writing and delighting in the sounds of the woods and garden.
The leaves are beginning to slowly change, but most everything is still quite green for early fall. We have not yet had a frost so the green color of the leaves has a soft, gray patina. I am not ready for fall, let alone winter. My summer garden chores are not complete, and I still have some weeding to do before I cut any of the perennials back. Some of the asters are just beginning to open and the morning glories on three of the trellises look triumphant and add quite a jolt of color to the diminishing blooms in the garden.
Yellow lilies on the koi pond catch my eye, but there seem to be fewer frogs when I count them on the lily pads as compared to two weeks ago. Where did they go? Did a hawk or owl grab one of them, or did one of the garter snakes that live in the Goshen stone that surrounds the pond make a desperate grab for one? No doubt it was the great blue heron that canvasses the pond, looking for a morsel every now and then.
Autumn joy sedum’s majestic shade of rose-red looks striking next to the tall, grassy miscanthus that stands behind it. Peering around the outside of the porch and back of the house I am reminded of fall chores yet to come to get the house ready for the first flakes of snow. I will take the screens down to let in more light, wash the windows, put the wicker furniture away, and move the large planter pots to the barn so the soil in them does not freeze, thaw, and refreeze to crack the pots. There will be countless leaves to be raked or blown down the hill over the stone wall and into the woods so as not to smother the grass; the list in my head seems never ending.
Eventually the leaves will change, make their statement and drift to the ground or cling to the grass and be trapped by plants or simply blow around. Finally, bit by bit, day by day, early fall will end and we will get ready for the chill of winter yet to come.
Autumn seems sad to me, this process of plants dying back or dying off, and wondering whether some of them will survive the winter to return in the spring.
Snow will eventually come and blanket the ground and many of the sights and sounds I have enjoyed since spring will be silenced by other elements which will arrive with winter. On those cold January days, I will dream of them as I walk under the trellis to the koi pond and look up, picturing the clusters of morning glories blooming like little blue trumpets, calling me to take notice, clumped together like a bride’s bouquet.
Lynn K. Cooper lives in Westhampton.