Autumn is too short a season for me. We have a couple of August nights with windows open and I'm ready. The hickory nuts are bouncing onto the deck, mostly jaggedy shells left by voracious squirrels. Those little demons celebrate the season. Not enough rain yet so I water the Hellebores and whatever is left in pots. Thank goodness for a deep well. The petunias are long gone, impatiens are leggy and marigolds shriveling.
Soon I can trade out summer annuals for violas and pansies. I picture the choices: apricot, lavender and deep purple? White, russet and yellow? Or monochrome? The creeping rosemary on the back hill is so sculptural it looks like its swimming, and the oregano is still fresh too. The chives weren't healthy this year, never even bloomed. I miss their tiny white flowers.
We're taking a fall trip. We'll get back mid-September in time for the Autumnal Equinox. I'm having such fun planning this adventure to Iceland, where we have never been, and to the Inner Hebrides of Scotland where we have also never been. I have not flown since before the pandemic and the tales of airline woes are cautionary. In this countdown to take-off I'm masking everywhere. No way do I want to miss the waterfalls, black sand and geysers; the Scottish brogue, pubs and rugged islands.
Sometimes on a trip you're in the company of great painters, spending time in museums with Renoir, Van Gogh and Monet, hanging out in another century. Sometimes at the theatre with Shakespeare or Eugene O'Neill. Sometimes you're with your whole family sharing meals and stories.
This time I feel like we'll be with God and the aeons of time. I'll learn about geothermal pools, see steep cliffs of lava, and stand among rocks on the Isle of Iona that have been there for 200 millions years. How can that be? It's 45⁰ F in Reykjavik right now, definitely fall weather. I'm feeling very very lucky and we haven't even left yet. Fingers crossed, thankful for this blessing and hoping happiness for all.
Nina Naomi
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