Gracious fall

A long and gracious fall this year.
The leaves are down. Gardens: emptied,
manured, tilled, smooth, and waiting.
Mower and tiller serviced and put away.

Smoker put away, as is the summer table.
Prayer flags, windsocks and their poles: down.
Twenty-foot homemade badminton poles,
peace flag at the top of one, store-bought net—
all down and put away for another year. No more
outdoor summer chores.

Fall planting — peonies and tiger lilies — done.
Summer flower stalks removed, beds mulched,
a blanket for the cold. Fall pruning done.

Woodshed roof hammered down and sealed again.
Cellar closed. Drive staked and flagged so the
snowplow knows where to go.

What else is there to do? Finally, for once, we are ready
for the snow. Ready now to come inside. Time now for
words and music, poems and shakuhachi. Time now
to light some incense, sit and stare at candlelight.

by, David Budbill

That lovely, lovely poem is from The Writer's Almanac. A shakuhachi is a Japanese wooden flute, used by monks in Buddhism rituals.  (But don't ask me about those hats)

Well, the Zen in this yard is a rusting rake leaning against the outside of the garage, and a fig tree ready to dump a load of sodden leaves and rotting fruit.  Still, it feels good to have an upper hand on the outdoor chores as we head into the dark tunnel.

Remember that short time after Halloween, when you could enjoy a few more weeks of fall and think about Thanksgiving?  I went to Target and Ross yesterday, and Christmas was in full assault. I wonder how many shiny, useless things can we cram in our houses.

That reminds me of all the boxes and boxes of bright things I've squirreled away over the years, that will soon be hauled down again from the attic. On the news this morning, I heard about a British study that says "holiday stress" begins today.  Ready or not, here we go.