There will be a morning each year when I step into my garden and notice that everything has changed. The corn stalks have seeded and browned, the sunflowers are stooping dangerously downwards, and I can start to see bare patches through the once-dense jungle of beans, zucchinis, and brassicas. The usual din of buzzing bees is suddenly silent, and fog lingers around the corners of areas that used to be bathed in morning sun. Maybe my favorite is seeing the lush green carpet of the winter squash vines fold up to reveal warty, bulbous shapes that compete with the colors of the changing leaves on the trees.
A single glance is enough to evoke senses and feelings that had been buried beneath the explosive growth of spring and splendor of summer. I suddenly feel exposed without a sweater, and find myself wondering why I didn’t bother to put socks on. I wonder about when I last had soup, or when I even wanted it, and instinctively pour water into the kettle in the evening instead of the pitcher of ice.
With changing feelings, patterns of life begin to change as well. The garden produce used to come straight to the kitchen – for eating, processing, canning, and giving away. Now it gets redirected to the basement, where the empty shelves await apples, squash, tubers, and onions. The chickens, who once sang so proudly to announce the arrival of an egg, now try to go unnoticed in the embarrassment of molting feathers. Paths that used to be hedged in by vegetation are now guarded by rows of dewy spider webs and flanked by miniature villages of mushrooms, and the rush-hour traffic of ants is replaced by lumbering rough-skinned newts winding their way through oak groats and pine cones.
The patterns of life begin to change at Homewoods too. I notice that we tend to go through a little more coffee each day, and the fair-weather fans of the chairs by the river start to roost more often in the library or puzzle room. We see a few more sweaters in the lost and found, put on to fight off the chill of the morning then abandoned in chairs and along paths during the warmth of the day. And Steve and Arthur, among others, now play host to the fall migration of air conditioners and fans back to the storage room.
Among all of the sweeping changes of the season, I find it interesting that the result is to feel calm and settled. It’s as if nature is pushing us inside, telling us to relax and enjoy the show. I think we should take her up on the offer. When it comes to watching the splendor of the season in the comfort of home, we’ve got one of the best seats in the house. For those who want a little more action and adventure, take a look through the calendar for new and exciting outings, and be sure to join us at the Harvest Festival!