Changing colors, dropping temperatures, pumpkin spice lattes: do these mainstays of Fall fill your heart with warmth — or with dread?
Hearing the radio announcer suggest, that we enjoy this wonderful warm sunny day, as it may very well be the last one for some time, had me looking out my kitchen window. The beautiful autumn splendour spreads gloriously across the valley. From this vantage point, the view is panoramic, domed by a cloudless soft blue sky, descending down behind the far off hazy hills and valleys that form our horizon.
Far into the distance, normally arid and dry at this time of year, the small acreages dotted throughout the foothills, still display a carpet of green, resulting from the unusual amount of unseasonal rainfall. Further up this undulating landscape, shards of sunlight reflect off the main buildings of local vineyards. With the inevitable invasion of birds that come with the ripening of fruit now past, and minus the protective white vestal like draping nets, their once luscious green foliage has turned to a rust gold, that greedily catches the rays of the sun, as it searches for the juicy plump ripened grapes that, up until a few weeks ago nestled there.
Dragging my vision closer to home, through the breeze driven dancing fronds of the house yard tree ferns, somewhat appearing out of rhythm with the cloth-line full of washing flapping merrily away in the background.
Noting I am not the only one appreciating the tranquillity magnified by the warmth of the sun, nestled under a bush is our kitten, Butterfly, lazily giving her-self a bath. Rolling back and forth in the open, making small grunting noises of contentment, Cocoa the dog, an arthritis sufferer, obviously enjoying the warmth, and the pain relief it brings.
Fowls, wandering about our yard at will, catch my eye, the big rooster in particular, normally a mixture of varying shades, ranging from tan and brown to black. On turning, his movement has his feathers catching the sunlight, transforming the seemingly black tail to a dark shimmering bottle green, his brown body feathers magically transformed to a living burnished copper shade, overlaid by head and neck feathers of fluorescent metallic gold, all this topped off with a ruby red comb standing to rigid attention. Undeniably justifying his arrogant, Cock of the walk, demeanour.
Conflicting thoughts drift, intermingling through the misty recesses of my mind, as I fluctuate between regret, somehow sensing the distant advancing of winter, with its dreary dark over cast skies, icy cold winds, rain and rumbles of the thunder to come, but aware that in time, the sun will return, again lighting my world and warming all within it.