When contemplating the morning temperatures of late, the word perfection comes to mind. Fall seems idyllic and romantic when it makes such a fine appearance in the mornings. As one drives along the country roads notice how the leaves have begun to change into their autumn finery. The annual show, which is always breathtaking, has begun. As the last hurrah before winter, the landscape of autumn is spectacular and the memory of it will tide us over until spring.
Everything about this season is a sensual feast for the senses with the sight of changing leaves absolutely thrilling. As they complete their color change, they begin to fall, delicately swirling to the ground in a dance of drifting patterns. Finally as they accumulate in colorful heaps, they are a joy to walk through…crackling and swishing with the sudden snap of the occasional acorn hidden beneath them. For an outdoor walk, this season has no match.
As one continues cleaning the garden, tidying up the confusion of overgrowth, the bones of the garden are visible once again. In viewing it, one immediately has an idea or two for next year. And as sagging summer bloomers are cut back one may also see the tiny tips of the early spring bulbs emerging. They are early reminders that the garden is perpetual and ever-evolving. They are the promise that the season may be over, but there is always another year.
The herbs may be cut back now to allow the new growth appearing at their bases to get light. Perhaps another small harvest is possible should we have a late freeze.
Some evening this week brew a cup of tea, grab a sweater, and wander outside, basking in the mellow feel of the summer's end. If you listen carefully, you can hear the brittle leaves dancing in tandem with the breezes before drifting gently to collect in crisp madness on the lawn.