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Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Fruits of the Season

Scarecrows, pumpkins, gourds, cornstalks...all the embellishments put out to evoke a feeling of "the harvest".  I drive home from work and the beauty of the season is abundant as soon as I leave the highway and pass through neighborhood streets ablaze with mums, Indian corn, pumpkins and husks.  Its ironic and makes me chuckle when I see a million dollar house "manicured" with fruits of the harvest at every tree and mail post trying to make itself look like a farm.  No other time of the season would we see vegetables strewn all over the lawn or grass and hay gone a wry and leaning against every tree and stump.  The hay bails crack me up when they're placed on a cobblestone walkway where its obvious that even the mums are "installed" by a landscaper! LOL  What the heck...why do we all try to look like farmers this time of year??
Well, for one thing, the idea of a harvest on a farm is comforting in a way.  It harkens back to simpler times, to a quiet and routine way of life, as oppossed to the chaos we deal with day in and day out.  Its authentic, as the rhythm of life on a farm or life in the country is dictated by Mother Nature and her seasons.  "It is what it is"...its dark when its dark and light when the sun comes up.  The winter beckons and life and spirit hunker down for a "long winter's night". So, I think the fall and the coming quiet time of year, is a force that is inescapable to people no matter how busy, how modern, how convenient, how accelerated their lives have become.  Its the spiritual version of "nap time" and we could all use a nap! 
So enjoy the colors, the produce, the shortened days and the cooler, longer nights and pretend you live on a farm!
The Sweater Queen

2 comments:

  1. There is a little Laura Ingalls-Wilder in all of us. Helping Pa in the field - Canning the harvest and drying the meat with Ma and Mary...You inspire me to bake a pie AND then take a guilt-free nap. Thank you.

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  2. Lady. Get a decent haircut for once in your life. Your bangs scream “I cut it myself.” Yikes.

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