Love's vine stems from the heart; it is ivy creeping through iron gates. Wanders free through stony soil, rushing stream, and bank. It can loiter in the garden, and fall victim to the spring rain. But do not despair, my dear, for its passion is like a flame: Forever burning in its tendrils, its coiled roots and leaves; survives environs menace, summer's blaze, and winter's freeze.
When I describe the air in the current season I never have the words to Articulate This feeling Fall Autumn Harvest All hallows A Season To Be Thankful The corn ready to be cut Or perhaps molded into a maze for the little ones Pumpkins Full of spice and flavor for you to smell Or maybe just to be severed for your porch The air Is crisp, refreshing When you say “it’s nice outside,” this is to what you refer Is nippy, full On the edge of Sweaters On days I have time I like to lay in the center of the field after practice and breathe The air restores my soul, my hope If nothing else, I love The air
I am painting word pictures today tasting hot incoming Autumn breezes transforming splendor dreary rain filled moments pass bidding adieu and welcome my rustic bamboo fare thee well to Summer's sun now in this Burning September
Entrancing as the dancing trees in changing multicolored hues... skies of crystal clear blue cut outs of rolling hillsides and lush Green mountains in that endless and seamless quilt sheltering the storms
My eyes are drawn past the still lively green leaves as the burning umber and cardinal tipped ones radiating hat tipped as chlorophyll ... choking the beauty outward from the petiole like greedy verdant fingers... the palm of my hand I linger ...a moment they wave in soft winds ...and I wave back
I remember old-time Vermonters like my Father didn't care for the Sumac trees thought perhaps a **** only beautiful to look at & they are so very lovely
These happy helpers say hello to Fall stick around when everything else already brown holding down needy dry hillsides from erosion growing fast and tall turning into thickets... for woodland critters providing borders unsung heroes beckon along railroads, highways , pastured Meadows and Orchard edges these beauties... never really go away.
A harvesting moon giving seasons five months from the time the leaves fall off until they grow back in the spring time serrated leafy knives cut into the sky a bittersweet and bashful goodbye sighing... to drunken apples and their dropping dried leafy friends
Surprisingly scrumptious providing we are foraging and gleaning I make a lovely citrusy sour and fruity tea like wild cranberry juice... imaging the Joy inviting clusters of crimson know
Providing more than food for winged ones a sugar depository loaded with antioxidants & spreading sunshine in darker months
Attracting lovely colorful winter birds my winsome friends seed eaters small singing kindred spirts... tempted by seeds pods of the Staghorn Sumac and remaining wildflowers bursting like burgundy globes scarlet and brick reds mellow yellows turning burning blazing bright oranges as the seasonal butterfly dreams unfolding it's summertime schemes right before my wondering eyes
European and English Gardens know varieties I can only close my eyes to see accentuating loose, textured landscapes stunning gardens & fern-like cousins across the world A Middle Eastern grind of this crimson spice from those crushed dried drupes while they prepare rice for dinner
I so appreciate what a gift we have to share time is running short before as told to me in times of yore we brace as one for Winter's Bone though I am not alone Vermont it is my earthly home all I really want to say thanks for sharing with me ... on this perfect picturesque Vermont September day.
Changed Title- my apologies. I miss my father every single day but I was certainly glad to see him in the Sumac trees... I am certain he is watching now consoling my heart as I bid adieu to the days of summer.