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LAST STAND IN THE FAVORITE SEASON
September 10, 2007
 
Rain: falling hard, straight down in vertical lines that look like they could last all day. I wouldn't mind in the least; we've been needing a good soaking.

I am over my brief period of mourning for the passing of summer. It never lasts for long; I have always been in the happy position of thinking that whatever time of year I'm in is my favorite of all. So now I am all about autumn, excited about the leaves changing and Q's surprising September harvest of figs, an achievement in New Jersey. My own New Jersey lemon grove doubled its yield, if I do say so myself: four actual lemons this year, up from last year's two.

The roses capable of reblooming are doing so, and those irises with the same capacity are gathering their forces to follow suit. One of these days the autumn-blooming crocus will appear, utterly unannounced: how a plant manages to produce a large flower straight from the ground, without having offered so much as a leaf beforehand, is an annual mystery.

There is much to anticipate among the animals, as well: Kitten's first fiery piles of red and gold leaves are just ahead, to say nothing of his first snowfall, which he will experience new along with Ben. Ben is much older, but never experienced the outdoors when he was a New Yorker, so I am eager to see him step out into the strange whiteness, a cautious black shape creeping slowly into a chill alien landscape, just out a back door he thought he knew well.

I guess sometimes you just wake up on a morning and everything is changed, Ben will think as he walks carefully across the patio to see just what's what. He will be right about that, by the way: some days give no sign at their beginning that a world will have ended and another one begun by the time they are over.

September 10. There will be a community observance over by the train station here in town tomorrow morning, one of many in small commuter towns along the train line. Off they went, as usual, picked up the paper and grabbed a coffee and just made the train, as usual. Got to work a few minutes early, as usual. And then "usual" came to an end, for some of them, never to be seen again.

Every season we have really is the best one. The favorite season. It might as well be. Because anything can happen.
Copyright © 2018 Barbara Crafton
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