I live on a ridge surrounded by trees with a beautfiul view of the water. For the past two years this has been my home, here in the quiet woods above a lake. In that time I have come to notice the forgotten art of watching; how the light change through the course of the day, the patterns of the moon and stars at night, the way the clouds are carried by the wind. Every day has a subtle difference even if the weather seems the same. I have learned to know the trees more intimately and to tell by the look of their leaves what is happening to them. The woodland animals have slowly become less cautious and I witness more and more of their daily lives. It is a wondrous experience.
In the early morning if the day starts out clear, the sun begins by staining the eastern sky. Some mornings its deep purple red reminds me of the stems of sumac, other days the orangy-red of pyracantha berries. It never, ever repeats itself. Something is always new to the watchful eye. As the seasons change the place where the sun climbs up moves across the horizon.
The night though, is the best. The moon when it is waxing, is well above the horizon before the sun has fully set. In late winter, those moments are almost magical. Sometimes I get that same feeling watching the nighttime sky. Did you know there are luminous white clouds at night billowing across it?
But it is the wind that I have come to notice the most. Perhaps because the trees are so openly in love with it and have all sorts of dances they do to seduce it through their leaves and branches. In the summer when the day has been heavy with the heat, there is a point just before dusk, when the air lifts and stirs. Sometimes this is only for a moment or two, but in the dense air there is a shift and sigh.
Now Fall is upon us in all it's luxouriousness and the North Georgia woods are full of breezes as the trees turn the colors of merlot and squash and summer gourds. The acorns have hardened and fallen. The days have more color than can be taken in. The air has a sense of expectancy. It feels as if the trees are waiting for some holy, ancient signal to be given for them to release their leaves. You may have seen it--those incredible few days when the air is full of falling leaves, so many you can hear the sound they make falling on each other. Their fragrane fills the air, scenting the woods and with the tang of the cycle of life.
Of all the seasons, I find Fall the most arresting. There is a rich tenderness to it unlike any other season. The word fullfillment comes to mind. Nature has reached her goal of replenishing the woods and fields and animals as best she can, and now is having one glorious celebration before settling in for a much deserved rest. Everywhere there is a growing awareness of completion and finishing up. We feel it too. We gather ourselves closer, center our lives more around our homes, observing holidays that focus on food and family ties. The light thins, the evenings come sooner as we drift gently towards the stillness of winter. Can you feel it coming?
In the early morning if the day starts out clear, the sun begins by staining the eastern sky. Some mornings its deep purple red reminds me of the stems of sumac, other days the orangy-red of pyracantha berries. It never, ever repeats itself. Something is always new to the watchful eye. As the seasons change the place where the sun climbs up moves across the horizon.
The night though, is the best. The moon when it is waxing, is well above the horizon before the sun has fully set. In late winter, those moments are almost magical. Sometimes I get that same feeling watching the nighttime sky. Did you know there are luminous white clouds at night billowing across it?
But it is the wind that I have come to notice the most. Perhaps because the trees are so openly in love with it and have all sorts of dances they do to seduce it through their leaves and branches. In the summer when the day has been heavy with the heat, there is a point just before dusk, when the air lifts and stirs. Sometimes this is only for a moment or two, but in the dense air there is a shift and sigh.
Now Fall is upon us in all it's luxouriousness and the North Georgia woods are full of breezes as the trees turn the colors of merlot and squash and summer gourds. The acorns have hardened and fallen. The days have more color than can be taken in. The air has a sense of expectancy. It feels as if the trees are waiting for some holy, ancient signal to be given for them to release their leaves. You may have seen it--those incredible few days when the air is full of falling leaves, so many you can hear the sound they make falling on each other. Their fragrane fills the air, scenting the woods and with the tang of the cycle of life.
Of all the seasons, I find Fall the most arresting. There is a rich tenderness to it unlike any other season. The word fullfillment comes to mind. Nature has reached her goal of replenishing the woods and fields and animals as best she can, and now is having one glorious celebration before settling in for a much deserved rest. Everywhere there is a growing awareness of completion and finishing up. We feel it too. We gather ourselves closer, center our lives more around our homes, observing holidays that focus on food and family ties. The light thins, the evenings come sooner as we drift gently towards the stillness of winter. Can you feel it coming?
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