WHAT'S BEST ABOUT FALL

This morning, I looked out the kitchen window and the holly berries had turned pink.  By December they will be a bright red weight on the boughs. The robins are awaiting their winter feast, the way we wait for the Thanksgiving turkey to brown. Yesterday, honestly, they were hard green and nearly invisible amongst the prickly leaves. It happened overnight.

What's best about Fall is that every day it changes.  Take the dogwoods for example.  In Spring they bloom with small yellow flowers encircled by pink or white bracts that look like petals.  Then in summer nothing much happens.  The dogwood stays green and survives the heat.  But now, every day the leaves reach a deeper shade of red.  Soon, the branches will be bare and reveal their deeply grooved bark. 

The nandina too have been turning persimmon with undertones of honeydew. They keep their feathery leaves all year if we escape a freeze, but are pruned by our hungry deer as grasses brown out for winter.  Right now, they are bent with heavy clusters of pale red berries on their cane-like stems. Some need propping up.  They will keep these berries all winter, probably because of the small amounts of cyanide in each orb.  

Last week we couldn't spot the white tails unless they were grazing in the meadow.  But this morning, with less foliage, they were visible meandering from meadow to deep woods past our windows.  Two were nuzzling while they ate the verbena next to the house.  They're growing their dark winter coats.  

And of course, the leaves. We're not making a fall trip.  There's enough going on right here.  And my husband still on crutches, down to one.

The other day I saw the most amazing sight. Not specifically related to the season, I guess, but a box turtle was on its back near my drive as I pulled in.  Nudged up against its side was another box turtle, wedged as it were, trying to help its buddy turn over. We've all seen water turtles piled on a rock together for warmth, but this I hadn't seen--two friends, alone in our meadow, struggling to right the one in trouble.  I got out and turned it over and off they plodded. 

What a season, what a world.  Having passed my big birthday, that I wrote about, I am enjoying everything. Keats called it a "season of mists and mellow fruitfulness."  Shorter days and longer nights. Let's love it all.           With love, Nina Naomi  

WE DON'T LIVE TO OURSELVES OR DIE TO OURSELVES

We can be an adventurer at heart and also love to be home.  As we move from summer to Fall and then into winter, we remember that everyone and everything needs some quiet time. We might see the leaves and think the beauty lies there, then see them fall and think the beauty lies on the ground in the piles of yellow, red and brown.  Then look up into the bone structure of the landscape.  

I love bare branches, the Halloween of it all, the way they reach and bend, clutching the air.  There is promise in a bare branch.  A Fall Day is a multiple cups of tea kind of day where you realize that life is too short to leave the key anywhere but in your own pocket. In Fall we realize that happiness is everyday joys lined up in a row.  

Fresh air, clean water, food, companionship and warmth.  Not everyone has these simple needs met.  If ours are, we must acknowledge the good in our life. If these needs are met, each stage of life is abundant:  childhood, adulthood, parenthood, grandparenthood and old age. Or being a friend, auntie or mentor. If these needs are met, we can sit by the window when it rains and contemplate, listening to our bodies and souls, or take a walk outside, or spend time with loved ones.  If these needs are met, we must see that others have the same chances, give, help, pray but don't stop there.

Life isn't perfect, but it does have perfect moments.  There are times we reemerge, refresh, even thrive. We live in our perfect imperfect homes, consoling ourselves and others when we need it. We pray, cry and hold each other.  We realize that being alive, just that, is so wonderful that we never need say we're bored, or too tired to help, or not interested.  We liberate ourselves by doing good things for others.  

As well, we enjoy our quiet moments. We look at our lives and hold on to some things and let others go. We remember what Ghandi said, "There is more to life than increasing its speed."  We make time for walks and thank God to be alive in our broken world.  We seriously try to fix it.  We aren't apathetic--we don't live that quietly. And we don't wait for extraordinary opportunities.  We seize common occasions and do our best. 

We learn what we have to get used to.  Aging.  Less relevance.  Even death.  We learn to trust life, which is the same as trusting God.  We find out that we are happier than we ever knew with the simpler things in life.  It surprises us.  We discover that we are OK where we are.  That being somewhere is more important than getting somewhere, a saying we now know is true. 

We have a few good people in our lives.  We love life even more than when it was new to us.  We live simply and well.  Or well because simply.  We don't live to ourselves or die to ourselves; we are the Lord's.  (Romans 14:7-8)

In peace, Nina Naomi

THIS MIGHT BE THE BEST TIME OF YEAR

What's your favorite way to greet autumn? When a bit of chill in the morning or evening means pulling on a sweatshirt, when the air is lighter, crisper, and the sun sets earlier.  When one deep delicious breath lets you know that summer is past.  

I see if the nursery has mums yet; that's my first autumn treat to myself.  Mums and pansies and some left-over snap dragons to fill in where the summer annuals and creeping Jenny are withering.  Some of the new mums will winter over and bloom twice, some will last for seasons and some never look as good as the day I buy them.  All good.  I set a few pumpkins by the mums.  Not all orange jack-o-lanterns like when we were kids, but cream and striped and green with warts too.  

Next, I forage for tablescapes.  Branches of red leaves from Dogwood; as the weeks pass, yellow maple leaves; some acorns, bits of moss and a few blooms from the mums gather up nicely.  In the yard, I keep the leaves off the moss; it doesn't like a blanket.  And blow the leaves off my woodland trails so I don't lose them to the forest. 

Don't you love the predictability of October?  Green turns to deep red, auburn, gold and finally, once on the ground, to brown and new mulch. The colors are as welcome as those of Spring. I rake only the few that the wind piles near the house.  Those I put by the armful into the firepit for an afternoon of that wonderful crackle of leaves curling in the flames. When the leaves are gone, pinecones and kindling with a log or two continue the warming blaze. Now that's a heavenly smell, chary woodsmoke as the evening cools, under strings of outdoor lights drinking hot cider or wine. 

I feel like I'm describing something picture worthy but actually it's just a stained concrete patio with woods up the hill and loved furniture in groupings.  By Fall, rust shows through everything I repainted in the spring, odd tables and chairs and lawn ornaments, whatever a third or fourth coat of paint will salvage for another season. The shine on the copper firepit is long gone too.  Stacks of cleared brush and fallen branches lie about and caste their ragged shadows. 

Many people love Fall best.  Right now, I'm feeling like I do.  The movement from Spring to the heat of Summer hasn't nearly the charm as the transition to autumn, at least not in North Carolina. Summer is sticky and sweaty and heavy; we live mostly in air conditioning or in front of fans or in the water.  But now . . . new beginnings, perfect for walks and runs and biking. Stars shine brighter when the nights are cool. Plants stand straighter too with a chill in the air and the mist of a light rain.  

We grilled bone-in porkchops tonight on our little kettle grill.  With roasted new potatoes and sweet peppers in red, orange and yellow, it was an easy supper. Fall is too short, every year.  But let's appreciate every little thing it has to offer.      Nina Naomi 

   

  

 

"ALL GOOD THINGS ARE WILD AND FREE," Henry David Thoreau

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 

 

 

 

 

 

ANYTHING THAT LIFTS OUR SPIRITS

 

Mt. Washington, NH

This blog began in 2017 on our first Princeton, New Jersey adventure.  This is our third.  We all need adventures, small and large.  I count almost anything.  Anything that lifts our spirits.  It can be a day kayaking, a pile of new books to read, some new spices to upgrade my cooking, you name it.  

We just came back from the nicest road trip.  This was something I yearned for pre-vaccine.  I wish I could say post-pandemic, but we reached a new milestone of 711,522 US deaths from Covid as of today.  The last 21 hours added 2,522 deaths; 97% were unvaccinated. That's 2,446 preventable deaths in less than a day. In my home state, 133 North Carolinians were added to the tally.  An unhappy thought. I can't fathom not being vaccinated.  We all need a spirit boost.    

For my husband and me, our two shots of Moderna are holding steady and we are grateful.  We felt safe to plan this trip to Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Maine and Connecticut.  I  never saw New England in the fall before. The leaves are a palate of their own, the reds sharper, the russets deeper, the yellows brighter. We live in the Piedmont North Carolina woods where autumn is not this luminous. No wonder the rest of the country descends on New England this time of year.  And yet it isn't crowded.  Plenty of countryside.  

 

Dickinson Home, Amherst, MA

Emily Dickinson Grave with Offerings

We began in Amherst, MA where Emily Dickinson lived and died.  We sat in her garden and visited her grave.  We saw the church her family attended. My life would be less without her poetry.  The world would be less.  Perhaps you feel the same. Surely those who left sweet offerings on her tombstone do.  Even now, remembering her everyday realm feels momentous.  Reading her poetry always lifts my heart.  We don't need to travel for that.  We can find the world in her poetry. 

 

Frost Home, Franconia, NH

We also took a road less traveled, overgrown and untrodden, high in the New Hampshire hills to see where Robert Frost lived and wrote.  When you're there it feels like you can hear his gravelly voice reciting "The Gift Outright" at President Kennedy's inauguration.  Later we hiked the Flume Gorge in Franconia Notch State Park, the most rigorous part of the trip for me.   

Flume Gorge, Mt. Liberty

The Gorge extends 800 feet horizontally with walls of granite that rise to 90 feet and are as narrow as 12 feet apart, with roaring cascades and waterfalls. A loud chasm with board walks and railings.  Tiring but not unsafe. When we came once decades ago my husband and I were both more agile.  Aren't places like this wonderful?

Do you love traveling in this country?  I do.  Day trip, road trip, camping, a weekender, a local get-away, a mini-break.  All of these lift our spirits.  Being so far from home and long-planned made this a bigger than usual adventure for us. I know life can be hard.  Mine often is.  But somehow after this I'm feeling like there can always be something good around the corner.                   

                                            Nina Naomi

 

THE GOODNESS OF MEMORY

Leaves burning remind me of Fall
The kids playing on the swing set while I rake
Matching green sweaters with hoods, pumping, out and back 
Sarah with her little bones, happy; Adam in boondockers, whirling  
We're feeling the chill, our hands and cheeks as the sun sets 
Damp earth, smokey air
Dinner at McDonald's, baths, soft pajamas, little feet, wet hair
Fragrant life
There's nothing wrong with my memories, nothing at all 


Sometimes it feels calm, the movement of life, the blessing of the surrender to time. 

Nina Naomi

GETTING AWAY MAY BE ALL WE NEED--FALL IN THE ROCKIES

Aspens in Fall, Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado

Sometimes we have to get away, even if just for a day.  Surviving two hurricanes and with my own surgery and rehab looming, I knew that was what we needed.  A few days away from everyday cares.  Visiting our national parks is high on my list.  There are enough for anyone's lifetime. Sixty in fact, in twenty-eight states plus the Virgin Islands and American Samoa. I looked it up.  California, Alaska, Utah and Colorado have the most.  With enough credit card miles and a direct flight, I picked Colorado for us.  The Rockies!  

No where is America more beautiful than in our national parks. They belong to us all.  To drive through, hike, camp and canoe, horseback and bike ride, fish, swim, raft. . . .  So many people have been to more of our parks than I have. Eighty-four million visitors a year! 

So I found a cabin on a river--no lodge, no fancy meals, just the same cooking I do at home.  But there was elk and bison from the Safeway to grill, and Filet Mignon at  prices we've never seen in North Carolina.  The first day we saw the bright yellow aspen in full fall glory.  The second day the elk were everywhere.  We were so excited!  

Bull, Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado

And the third day it snowed!  We walked around Bear Lake then lit the fire in the cabin and settled in.

Bear Lake, Rocky Mountain National Park

Funny how even a trip of 4 nights can be a trip of a lifetime.  And planned on no notice.  Just make up our minds and go.  I see so many lessons here.  The "Just Do It" slogan of Nike, for one.  That kind of thinking can propel us to grab the chance to make a difference in our lives.  Being in nature, feeling awe, standing before majesty, these experiences are not so hard to come by.  Tomorrow I can't get on a plane, but I can go outdoors at dusk and wait for the stars to come out.  I can get up in the night and see the moon.  I can walk Mr. Wiggles before the sun comes up and feel the chill of autumn.  

Maybe you're somewhere special right now.  Or maybe you're at home and that's special.  Maybe your pansies are blooming, or your mums, and your trees are turning, or the first snow has fallen, or the berries are on your cedar trees.  Something good is happening in nature.  Whether near or far, something good is happening.  Let's enjoy it.  Let's just do it!  Nina Naomi

LET YOURSELF GO

Summer just opens the door and lets you out. 

This is a quote by Deb Caletti (b. 1963), young adult author.  I like it.  But actually, it can apply to any season.  Spring certainly, the season of rebirth.  Fall, which is also new beginnings, crisp air, the school year, the end of a hodge-podge summer schedule.  Even Winter with the cleanliness of new fallen snow and the brightness of Christmas decorations.  I figure just about any time is a good time to take off, to soar.  I am thinking partly about the times when we can be who nobody thinks we are.  

When we're alone of course.  We can dance around the house, sing as loud as we want, turn the music up, clean like a dervish or let things go, cry if we need to or practice scream therapy, sleep with the covers over our head or stay up all night. . . .   But also when we're on vacation, whatever time of year.  We won't run into our high school teacher at the super market, or an old friend (or enemy) grabbing coffee.  On vacation, especially if alone, we can wear hats, red lipstick, chat with strangers, do something outrageous, create a persona.  If a friend wants to do this with us, all the better.  

It's fun to be someone different.  I rented my husband and me a place in the mountains, just for a couple of nights.  At home we are straight-laced grandparents.   On a mini-break we added spa treatments, late-night oysters, mountain views, hair-pin curves.  Oh my goodness.  Just 3 hours from home but so good to be someone else. 

You parents and grandparents, family members, care-taking children, teachers, accountants, lawyers, bosses, have you done this?  Gotten away for a night?  Gotten to be whomever you want?  Students can do this when they go away to college.  A chance to change who they were in high school.  We can do it in a new job or new city.  A do-over.  It's downright liberating.  

I don't mean a break from our values.  Or what we believe in or who we trust or who we would lay down our life for.   Just a chance to lighten the load, to let ourselves go.  To be someone else for awhile or forever.  Do you have a weekend alone or away?  Can you plan something? Why not open the door and let yourself out?  I'm looking for a time right now.