The Poetry of Place: October 3 and 6

October 3, 2014

   Things are changing rapidly at the pond.  My two visits, just 3 days apart, brought very different results.  This solitary red leaf floating on a heavenly blue surface rippled by the breeze was like a preview of what is to come.  The leaves, not just reflected in the water, now engage the pond in a more direct way.

   The lily pads that once carpeted the water along the shores are slowly disappearing, sinking to the bottom to become food for next years growth.

October 6, 2014

   I could hear the plunk/plop sounds of the acorns dropping off the trees and the singing of chickadees filled the trees over my head.  Although the weather continues to by mild, there is a sense of urgency about it all. " Enjoy this while it lasts!" the pond seems to be saying.  It is but an interlude between two distinct ways of being.

     The oak leaves are transforming along with the red maples.  Some will fall but many stay on the branches all winter making their characteristic rattling noise in the wind.  So much of the autumn revolves around the leaves; their color changes, their descent to the earth, their rich and tantalizing smell, even the sound of crunching leaves underfoot.

   Soon the branches will be bare and stark against water and sky but for now the pond dances with color.  It is a wonderful time.  The pine trees as well are shedding some of their needles mixing with the leaves along the shore.

   A small submerged leaf stood out a bright blue amid the rusts and reds.  A trick of the light?  I didn't dwell on the science of it.  It seemed a very special gift to me, one of many I have received along the edge of the pond.

    There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir: We must rise and follow her, When from every hill of flame She calls, and calls each vagabond by name.

- William Bliss