The tree in the courtyeard outside my window is looking preggy ragged. another good windstorm and most of those sade looking leaves will be gone; to be rounded up by the yeard service guy with the reall, really, loud gas powered leaf blower.
As one season winds down the promise of another begins. the lefless branches show the smallest promise of next spring's leaf and new branches buds. Very tiny, just a promise, but they are there. We're heading for the shortest days of the year, the darkest days. Especially if you live in states like Oregon or the New England states. After the dark days come the light days. If you live far enough north it doesn't really gt dark at night.
I wonder who first realized that next spring's growth started in the waining days of Autumn. The Greeks compaged the Druids to their Natural Philosophers but the lives of the trees must have been discovered long before the Druids began codifying their knowledge. And who discovered that lighting smudge pots in an orchard helps to protect against frost damage.
We seem to have lost the awareness of the great cycle//spiral of time. Spring 's Maiden becomes Winter's Crone only to be reborn again in the Spring. The Oak King of Spring and Summer is succeeded by the Holly King of the days of harvest and Winter. And I do believe I will stop there. Have some reading to do before I reopen some of those mental file cabinets.
That's how my mind seems to work. I start out in one part of the puzzle aned other pieces make themselves known. Does make for some interesting, stream of consciousness entries though.
