2010-In the course of the day yesterday I must have seen a dozen different kinds of spiders. There’s the ones who seem to be inhabiting every corner of the ceilings, busy producing even more. Then there’s the black one inside the kitchen window that hides inside the track of the storm window whenever it sees me and there’s a brown one, one of these tunnel-web making ones that I’m seeing for the first time this year, just on the other side of the glass. (Do they see each other ?) In the crook of the house outside there’s some kind of spider building webs like shelves, one over the other right up the wall. I picked a dahlia and found a beautiful white spider sleepily crawling out from its bed in the petals. And then, while scraping paint, I disturb myriads of daddy long legs and several others. What abundance. I want to think of them as fellow lodgers, little friends to share the day with. Then when I see them closer up I find many have incredibly beautiful and intricate oriental rug like patterns on their backs. Each one a magnificent creature, all but invisible in our world.
The harvest moon is tomorrow night, coinciding with the Fall Equinox. I would like to celebrate Japanese style by drinking sake and writing haiku while moon gazing. Even last night it was bright enough to walk home by and I thought how I always wanted to live where there were no street lights. How seldom I take the time or make the effort to appreciate that wish come true. Last night I couldn’t help myself.
Rising harvest moon,
Baseball on the radio,
So high and outside.
I went outside yesterday to see how the storm was progressing and found myself at a loss for words to describe what was happening. There were definite patches of blue sky at the same time soft light rain was falling out of low dark clouds. I fell in between the words rain and sun; I felt a new word was needed but more than that it seemed that my effort to fit reality into inadequate words was keeping me from seeing/experiencing what was actually there. How can the incredible complexity of weather fit into a word or even words? That was the first time I really saw how they could get in the way.
2011-Officially Fall. The trees are yellowish brown, the Virginia Creeper climbing the trunks is brownish red. It is hot and wet and overcast and expected to stay this way all week--the rain totals are fourteen inches above normal. The tomatoes all blighted and died but Val brought over a bumper crop of chestnuts. The pink sunrise sky lit up misty fields of goldenrod and maroon violet grasses with accents of purple asters. I saw it before the clouds quickly erased the scene, but my heart wasn’t in it. There are plenty of apples though they are spotted and small. Perhaps I’ll make apple sauce today.
2012-The days and nights are an equal twelve hours. Although it’s early, it seems the hummingbirds have been gone for a week already but I’ll keep the feeders up a bit longer, just in case. Cold nights in the forties, but no frost. I put the furnace on this morning to bring the inside temperature up from 56 to 61. I told myself it was to test the burner before they service it next week, but really it was just too cold. How many other self-serving untruths do I feed myself? A very murky unpleasant feeling that I don’t really want to look into. A suspicion that I am a sniveling, self pitying, fear ridden, judgmental pathetic specimen. Just in time for Halloween. What would my costume be? The Gollum?
2013-The leaf colors are changing quickly now and it looks to be a beautiful show this year. Now that we have an apple press we have been making cider and thinking about experimenting with other fruit-friends have pears and grapes in abundance. A series of beautiful mornings and the perfect temperature for yoga on the deck. I think I saw the last hummingbird the other morning.
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