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 “Boo!”
…and similar salutations of the season
by Wren
I went for my morning walk, which gets more challenging the crisper the mornings are and I try to linger longer in the warm bed. As I pounded across the causeway that borders a small lake I kept one eye open to avoid the greasy, green gifts left by the Canada geese, which are grounded today. With the other eye, I marveled at the fog clinging so closely to the glass-like water, and my thoughts stray to the phrase, “smoke and mirrors”, which strikes me as appropriate for the season.
The asphalt path led in into the woods, which are chillier than sunshiny shore of the water. I was prompted to move a little faster. The mayflowers and lily-of-the-valley of an earlier season have yielded to a carpet of brown, yellow and gold with the occasional splash of red. More sun comes through the thinning trees, but it has a decidedly different quality. It’s thinner now and slants at a lower angle than it did before the latest change of season. This is an odd time to think about planting.
The Feast of Fallow is behind me now, and the Feast of Death looms on the horizon. Now is the time to consider my goals for the coming year; what worked last year and what did not. Are my goals the same? Did I get what I asked for while forgetting the Gods and Goddesses can be quite literal sometimes? What is next? What seed should I plant to nurture into fruition through the new year? My analysis leads me to understand that the seed planted last year did indeed yield fruit, however, the desired result was shortsighted. This year, I shall select my seed more carefully.
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