. . . sometime, before long. It’s been a busy fall so far. Lots to do at school and we’ve had some work done on the huse, with guys tramping in and out with large porcelain fixtures and flooring, all to the accompaniment of barking terriers. Not conducive to calm reflection. More anon.
The leaves have been turning color and falling for a couple of weeks now, but today was the first day they fell in great numbers, all at once, in big, wind-driven swirls. We’ve had waves of wind and rain all afternoon and the trees, though some still have green leaves, are noticably more naked. (Is the use of naked in that last sentence an example of what Cleanth Brooks would call the pathetic fallacy? Screw him.) Just now as I write this, a few shafts of late sun are breaking through and throwing an erie but beautiful light on the pines and maples across the road, which are glowing green and orange as if from within. A real Wordsworthian sort of moment, a brief gleam fading now before I finish the sentence.
- The Canada Geese are making a hell of a noise down on the river, getting ready to form up and head south.
- At the local farm stand there are no more summer squash, but the selection of winter squash is generous.
- Days are warm, but nights are cold enough to fire up the woodstove.
- I’m working on poems instead of grading my students’ essays.
- (Later) Saw a flock of bluebirds flitting around this morning, getting ready to head south.