Photo by Toaster28, (photoshopped) Osprey flying over the Bay at sunset
Autumn
For many, Autumn is the dying season. Drying leaves fall from trees, the flowers that bloomed in the summer are now spent, outside toys are stowed to sit unused all through the Winter. A brief burst of warm, sunny days, of colorfully dressed trees, then the darkness sets in. The days are shorter, the nights long and dark. Gray skies and precipitation make the days darker. The birds migrate. Winter is just around the corner.
But to me, growing up in the Bay Area, Fall has always been the season of hope and renewal. Yes, the birds migrate but to lands farther south where, free from nest building and chick rearing, they can enjoy a well-earned vacation. And the precipitation here is welcome, watering the parched soil and promoting new growth. Every year I eagerly watch for the hills to turn green.
The short days and long eves provide time for rest and quiet activities. The garden needs less attention, so one’s mind turns to reading and baking. When I was a child, well even as an adult teacher, Autumn meant a new school year with new students or a new teacher, new crayons and a new school outfit. A time of hope, anticipation and renewal.
And then there is the weather. Here in the Bay Area, Autumn is often warm with clear sunny days, cooling winds and cool nights, and a bright moon in the sky. And harvest. Now is the time to enjoy the literal fruits and vegetables of one’s labor. Apples, pears, raspberries, cucumbers, tomatoes, squash all appear in abundance.
Which reminds me: time to make applesauce. I’ll be back later
For many, Autumn is the dying season. Drying leaves fall from trees, the flowers that bloomed in the summer are now spent, outside toys are stowed to sit unused all through the Winter. A brief burst of warm, sunny days, of colorfully dressed trees, then the darkness sets in. The days are shorter, the nights long and dark. Gray skies and precipitation make the days darker. The birds migrate. Winter is just around the corner.
But to me, growing up in the Bay Area, Fall has always been the season of hope and renewal. Yes, the birds migrate but to lands farther south where, free from nest building and chick rearing, they can enjoy a well-earned vacation. And the precipitation here is welcome, watering the parched soil and promoting new growth. Every year I eagerly watch for the hills to turn green.
The short days and long eves provide time for rest and quiet activities. The garden needs less attention, so one’s mind turns to reading and baking. When I was a child, well even as an adult teacher, Autumn meant a new school year with new students or a new teacher, new crayons and a new school outfit. A time of hope, anticipation and renewal.
And then there is the weather. Here in the Bay Area, Autumn is often warm with clear sunny days, cooling winds and cool nights, and a bright moon in the sky. And harvest. Now is the time to enjoy the literal fruits and vegetables of one’s labor. Apples, pears, raspberries, cucumbers, tomatoes, squash all appear in abundance.
Which reminds me: time to make applesauce. I’ll be back later
 Harvest Time |  |
Harvest Moon
 |  cap by chaya Aug. 29, 2023 from the osprey cam at the Port of Richmond CA. |
| The moon is following me, The moon is following me, Wherever I look and see, The moon is following me. Last night when I was out on a walk It was so dark I could not see But then the yellow moon came out And shone its light on me. One night I was so very sad So sad I could but weep. But then the moon looked in on me And shone me to sleep. When I am sad and all alone Lonely without end The moon will come to me and say, I will be your friend. When I am lost and sore afraid, The moon is there for me, When I am blinded by my fear It shines its light so I can see. So shine on, yellow moon. Keep shining down on me. Shine on, yellow moon, Please keep following me. | Full bright white moon shines The air is still warm, Reflects Bay waves. Water still as glass. No wind, not a sound. Late night fog creeps in, Brings from the ocean Welcome cool damp air. Bay Area Autumn. |
Each Ending is also a New Beginning
Sunset on the Bay
| Rosie on the Rail Rosie who's on the rail, eating a fish, What is going through your head? While you are eating, then feaking, Dreaming of day ahead? Richie is on the wire nearby, Are you saying good-by? Are you planning to leave today, Are you thinking to fly? Where will you fly, how long will it take, Will you fly day and night? Will you land on sea or lake, Where will you finally alight? Wish you fair skies, tailwinds ahead, Safe and speedy flight. We will say our good by's tonight Before you shall take flight. Rosie who's on the rail, eating a fish, What is going through your head? While you are eating, then feaking Dreaming of day ahead? | One bird on the wire Waiting, for his mate Sits until dark descends. But she never shows. He knows she is gone Off to Southern lands, Knows she will return With the warm Spring winds. So he flies off to Other roosting spots Around the Bay but To us yet unknown. But he will visit The nest now and then, To chase off the crows, Lay claim to his nest. Around the Solstice, He will visit more Frequently, watching For his faithful mate. He knows that in Spring The air will be warm And she will return. He will be watching. New season will start, They'll build a new nest, All will start anew |
The water is wide, I can't cross over .
Neither have I the wings to fly.
So sail alone now, Clipper Rover,
Across the sea, 'til you meet the sky.
And there you'll find, those who've gone before,
Born and fed on the Richmond shore,
Whirley, Tam, Peace-Up, Gamma Ray,
And last our dear little Molate.
And you shall fly feather to feather,
In the sky that goes forever,
Free of stress and free from cold,
In the place where you never grow old.
The water is wide, I cannot cross over.
Neither have I the wings to fly.
So sail alone now, Clipper Rover,
Across the sea, 'til you greet the sky.
Gingko Tree
Autumn returns
As it does every year,
But I too have returned
Home to my house,
Alone, with only the garden
And the dachshund for company.
Is it return
To my old life, routine?
Or the beginning of
A new chapter?
I fall into old habits but
My routine includes the dog.
Have new habits,
New friends and memories.
And I enjoy them all.
Take time for each:
Solitude and Socializing.
I remember and I move on.
Amaryllis bloom
As they do every year,
The pink flower from the
Old country blooms too,
And the new yellow ginkgo
Grows vigorously.
It will lose
Its leaves soon but
Sprout new ones in the Spring
Fresh and green, life anew
A new season,
A Memory and Reminder
Well then heart, take leave and be well.
Autumn returns
As it does every year,
But I too have returned
Home to my house,
Alone, with only the garden
And the dachshund for company.
Is it return
To my old life, routine?
Or the beginning of
A new chapter?
I fall into old habits but
My routine includes the dog.
Have new habits,
New friends and memories.
And I enjoy them all.
Take time for each:
Solitude and Socializing.
I remember and I move on.
Amaryllis bloom
As they do every year,
The pink flower from the
Old country blooms too,
And the new yellow ginkgo
Grows vigorously.
It will lose
Its leaves soon but
Sprout new ones in the Spring
Fresh and green, life anew
A new season,
A Memory and Reminder
Well then heart, take leave and be well.
Wohlan, denn, Herz. Nimm Abschied und Gesunde.
Piccola says, I remember and forget. I accept the new as long as I have one loved one nearby. I like my new bed. I like my new human friends and am becoming sociable in my old age.