A Change in the Weather

 

Even without seeing the weather forecast, I knew when I woke up early this morning that we were in for a change in the weather.  The sun was still low in the east but the wind was blowing leaves past my window and the sky had that dull grey color that means rain.  The dogs were already outside, zooming and wrestling while Scout lay on the picnic table overseeing the activities.  Since the nights have been cooler, he has abandoned the air conditioning vent for the cold air outdoors.

It has been a long slow fall, with warm days and cool nights.  We have not even had a killing frost yet.  The trees are decked in their bright party clothes and the early morning sunlight turns the big maple across the road into a massive golden sphere.  My husband and I planted that tree when we built our house, about fifty years ago.  The dogwood we planted nearby is a midget in comparison and burns now with dark red foliage.  The chrysanthemums are giving up their bright colors while the hibiscus and roses are bravely clinging to their last few blooms before their winter.  It’s supposed to freeze tonight and I cut off those remaining blooms to give them a few more days to survive. 

The wild geese fly over the house almost daily, honking their goodbyes as they look to the south.  The other morning I caught a whiff of wood smoke when I walked outside, and the hum of the machinery in the fields has taken on a note of urgency.  Hunters haunt the local restaurants after a morning in the woods, and a bounty of acorns, walnuts and pecans keep the squirrels busy. The nights are quieter now, or as quiet as they can be with a pack of collies living here.  The night birds are silent and the katydids have put away their fiddles.  An occasional owl hoots from the holler and the dogs issue their challenge when coyotes howl in the distance.  Even the mornings are quieter, the hush broken only by the crows raiding the pecan trees.  That will change when I fill the bird feeders, welcoming the chatter and challenge of winter birds eager for a meal.

Halloween was a perfect night, with shirtsleeve temperatures and a hump-back moon.  Our town has become known as a Halloween Town, with a parade before the actual October 31 date, a haunted tour and a display of skeletons around the square during October. 

On Halloween night, there is a haunted firehall with free hot dogs, several streets are blocked off for trick or treaters, and people come from all around to go door to door collecting enough candy to put everyone in a diabetic coma.  Neighbors compete to see who can have the most over-the-top spooky yard and the streets are filled with goblins, witches, pirates, princesses, dinosaurs, aliens and every other kind of costume imaginable.  My favorite this year was a Cabbage Patch doll in a box.  It’s a far cry from the plastic masks and bed sheet costumes of my childhood.  Another impressive group was Alice, the White Rabbit, the Cheshire Cat and the Queen of Hearts.  They should get extra candy for knowing the story! My young cousin was a vampire, with a cape, white face make-up and a black wand.  Her baby sister, who had no idea that it was Halloween or what Halloween is, was a spotted calf.  She tolerated a trip around the block then fell asleep in her mom’s lap. 

When Halloween arrives, we seem to mount a galloping horse that takes us in a headlong rush to Christmas, with a short pause for Thanksgiving.  I try to close my eyes to Christmas decorations until the end of November, giving that day of family and gratitude its chance to shine, but at church, the choir is working on Christmas music and the aisles of shiny decorations in the store lure me to “just look.”  I wish I could slow down that galloping horse for a few weeks, to savor the jewel tones of the autumn trees, the pumpkins and scarecrows; for just a little longer.

   Photo by Eames Harris