BULLETIN 1: If you’re following the Word of the Month poems, J. Patrick Lewis just joined us with a very sad tale. Bring your hankie.
BULLETIN 2: Ken Slesarik just posted poems by two of his students and they’re both quite good. We now have THREE student poems posted this month. Hooray!
Officially we have five more days but fall has been in the air for some time now. No more highs in the 80s. Summer wear has gone to the back of the closet. Leaves turned and have now lost their color. Nothing left to do but fall. Maybe that’s how the season got its name.
Here at Goose Lake signs of autumn are abundant. The turtles no longer sun themselves on the rocks at the foot of our retaining wall. Geese are jittery. All summer they sound like teenagers trying to yodel. Now they are mostly silent, intent on their short practice flights around the lake, beyond the treeline, and back, sometimes arriving after dark. They have a good two months before a few of them will leave for winter grounds but they already feel the stir that will cause them to leave.
Everyone is hungry. Spiders are everywhere. Some, big as berries, hang in quiet corners, hiding in plain sight from the hapless insects that become ensnared in their webs. Others wander the grass and hug the foundation of the house in search of bigger game. Robins stand in the rain, waiting for the worms that inevitably wriggle from their tunnels to avoid drowning only to become fast food.
Crows are more silent, more focused. The other day someone left small sacks on driveways up and down the street with promotional literature and candy inside them. Once the crows discovered them, they systematically pecked open the sacks and went on a candy binge.
We haven’t closed our pool yet. My fault. Should have called sooner. Our nightly activity now is to scoop leaves from the water and vacuum them from the patio. The heater by the tables helps if you stand or sit close enough but mostly it’s windy and cool and we go outside more to work than to relax.
Those of you in warmer climes don’t feel the changing of the seasons the way we do here. Sometimes I envy you. Especially when my back hurts from scooping leaves.