© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2015
An historic vibrant neighborhood is precious, glittering golden in autumn light. It is not just the sights, the sounds, but the smells. The SSB Drever and I walked in such a neighborhood today, the arms of the changing air wrapping around us, the falling leaves flitting down, waving before our eyes, flirting before dancing with our feet. The dusty, musty smells, fingers of earthy musk reaching up to us, inviting us into Autumn’s spell. Even the remains of vibrant Summer’s green succumb to the heady musk, numb to that which is to come.
Days Diminish to
Woodruff in Autumn-© Jo Hewitt 2015
© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2014
This morning I was up before sunrise in the kitchen cooking. I noticed condensation on the west window. Just a few nights ago the lows were in the 70’s. This morning and two before it, the night temperatures were in the upper 40’s. All of a sudden it seems that autumn is here. It always does that, but now more than ever, faster than ever. It is sudden, like the sonorous swell of cicadas morphing into the tambour and click of the cricket songs, the winds sneaking in from the North, and condensation on a window still chilled from the night air. It is beautiful and intense. There is a melancholy for me, knowing that hidden in this beauty is the awareness of trying to still find warmth and cheer in the unfolding blanket of brown of dying daylight. I know I must condense my desires and dreams into a shorter period of time. The occasional tear condenses and drips from my dreams that can no longer be.
Condenses on my windows.
Winter is nearer.
The Window in Autumn
By Henri Le Sidaner 1916