september begins with crunches underfoot; no flowers falling from trees, but green pecans instead. it is, as bilbo baggins said, a dangerous business going out your front door. the tree hurls them onto the sidewalk, the porch, the roof, our heads. they bounce off the hood of my jeep. skye cat dodges them and skitters for safety. the lovely, lovely katie delights in them under her feet; i watch her leave in the mornings, making a small detour onto the bridge to step on just a few more while they rain down around her. i am reminded of the apple trees in the wizard of oz, and laugh - something about the aliveness of these trees is such magic. wizards and journeys and trees - oh my!
we have come this far on our journey of the year;
before us lie only the months ending in r,
and there are gifts awaiting us.
this morning's was the discovery of one of skye's magic places, in one of the backyards that bumps into ours, its old wooden fence falling apart and down, covered in wisteria, shaded by trees. if you are a cat you will follow this fence to a tree long fallen, still sprawled upon the garage roof, vines encircling its trunk, and from there you will find, on the opposite side, a giant oak extending a low branch in welcome, so gently angled that you are able to just walk into the tree. how long has it been like that? all i had to do was look.
the first gift of september.