The Glory of Autumn and All Those Leaves

I read that our autumn colours are going to be disappointing this year because of the weather patterns. What they should have said was that there may not be the usual vivid, jewel toned panorama that takes your breath away, but the glory of autumn can be found in smaller doses, as long as you open your eyes to it.

For me, autumn is one young sugar maple tree; barely twenty feet tall in my yard. That one tree will turn an amazing rainbow of colours for me. It will make me wonder yet again how a green tree can turn so many different shades of red, peach, gold and orange.

Then one leaf will fall, and my attitude will change. Two leaves and my muscles shake. Three and the bottle of Advil rolls towards me. A heady gust of wind comes and just like that, the trees are nearly naked and my rake is banging itself against the shed door, dying to come out and play. This must be why autumn is also called fall. This is where the glory of autumn ends for me.

After waiting as long as I possibly can to put off this chore, I make it out to the shed. The door creaks eerily as I open it. My hair blows around my face as the wind kicks up again. I turn and watch more leaves fall. I look back at my rake and cringe. It growls at me, hungry for exercise. I put on my gloves. The rake jumps up in anticipation, shaking off the cobwebs of a quiet month or two.

I look at the wooden handle, so eager to be in my hands. “Now listen,” I sternly tell my rake. “I’ve got only so much muscle power, patience and skin thickness on my hands. As soon as I reach the end of my play list on my MP3 player, you’re going back in the shed, got it?” The rake jumps into my hand in acquiescence of my rules. I plug in my earphones, press play and let the rake drag me unwillingly to the back yard.

When looking at an expanse of lawn the size of ours, with the gorgeous trees dropping thousands of leaves, I feel helpless. Where do I start? Should I do a pattern? A bunch of small piles? Is that my phone ringing? Is someone here? Maybe I’d better go check. The rake begs to differ and digs its tines into the dirt. Fine.

I plough ahead and groove to the tunes plugged into my ears. I make it fun, dancing as I rake for what seems like days, and only when my arms scream for a break do I stop. I am proud. My pile is huge. I turn around and realize I’ve barely started. I sigh. The wind blows. The leaves fall again. My pile scatters and the rake laughs. I’m done for now, because tomorrow I have to go buy a new rake.

 

Flickr Tags: autumn,fall,leaves,fall colours,rake,laughter,funny,life Lessons,random

Yesterday, the Universe Pooped On Me.

First, the dog (read, idiot) went out for his morning run while Peter fetched the paper – wait – the dog fetched, Peter retrieved. But Chip is a Labrador Retriever, so why doesn’t he just get the paper?

Because that idiot dog would rather roll in poop.

How do I find out about it? Ah, the good part.

I'm fresh from bed, dressed in my warmies and thinking about toast and an ice-cold glass of milk when Chip comes up for his morning "OMG it's Joyce it's JOYCE! I worship JOYCE!!”

He runs through my legs as I go to scratch his back. I realize  my pants leg is wet and look down. And see a lovely smear of . . .

Green, unidentifiable, poop.

Good. Freakin’. Morning.

I shriek, as is my favourite thing to do first thing in the morning. I chase the dog away, ripping the clothes from my body, shuddering and gasping and trying not to imagine what type of animal that had effectively just marked me.

Friggin’ GROSS!

Chip got a Palmolive and cold-hose bath immediately.

Then, I get to my office downstairs, where my cat has spent the night. Across the top of my desk is a nice little trail of mouse droppings, courtesy of number one and number two.

Sigh. My pets are SO fired.

I just knew it was going to

Flickr Tags: animals,cats,dogs,comedy,funny,pets,nature,life

be one of those days.

The Magic of the Moon

(9/2006)

The other night I heard a pack of wolves in the woods behind us start their woeful howling. It was a bit spooky sounding. Even the crickets and frogs stopped to listen to their distant cry. I checked to make sure I had a good stash of silver and fell asleep thinking about the magic of the moon.

The full effects of the moon can only be felt in a quiet spot far from city lights. The stars only come out in the country where they know they’ll be appreciated. They only remove themselves from the canvas to take a back seat to the moon's allure. Anyone in Lanark County can tell you of a few hundred perfect spots to see the night sky as it’s meant to be seen.

Let's take a walk in the moonlight. If the right person says it to you, your knees get weak at the prospect of a magical night. You’ll be positively a-twitter with the possibilities. You'll link fingers and look at each other, and you won't believe how beautiful your date is. There's something about the night that makes you know it's time for the first kiss.

Would the moment be the same without the moon?

You wish you remembered what your date looks like and realize what a stupid idea it was to wander in the blind dark with a person you barely know. You both laugh it off when you almost run into a tree. You're going in for that magical first kiss and get a clumsy mouth full of the tree trunk you thought he was leaning against. He's already face down in the grass because he thought you were just little bit to the left. You'd both be laughing if not for your splinters and his broken nose. No moon, no second date.

And why does a full moon create werewolves? Some believe that Hollywood perpetuated the full-moon thing. Apparently real werewolves change voluntarily. I read it on the Internet, so it must be true. If they can change on a whim, why not save the nasty transformation for a more practical time -- say, when the tax auditor shows up?

Let’s take the ‘creepy’ moon away from Hollywood. Let's tell the were-people that they are no longer allowed to use our magical moon as an excuse for their bad behaviour. Let’s choose to believe that fireflies are really faeries sent to twitter across your path with enchanted dust ensuring sweet dreams for the night to come.

There’s a little bit of Swiss cheese in that moon for anyone who cares to believe it exists. That man is there, writing down all our dreams as they float past him every night. There are magical moonlight walks, dances, kisses and incredible memories that can only be made when that light shines for us. It’s mystical and wondrous and, if we're lucky, it will keep shining for us for generations to come, spreading a little moon dust magic on the way.