On the cusp of Halloween, before the covens of tiny witches and goblins descended at dusk, I vowed to take the day to observe any signs and portents that, in the words of poet Dylan Thomas, ‘the weather had turned around‘ and Fall had finally arrived, despite what the thermometer read.
Perched on the front door, peering through the beveled glass, a lime green katydid, unmistakable harbinger of Fall.
Ignored at the edge of a busy public parking lot, a weathered pomegranate tree offered its ruby treasure, free for the taking, while shoppers rushed blindly to their cars.
In today’s mail, a photo from a friend in Taos taken yesterday, the morning of All Hallows Eve. Right on time for the goblin parade, the first snows of winter had frosted the roof of her old adobe hacienda where faded Tibetan prayer flags flutter gaily, sending silent blessings into the crisp Fall air.
The weather has turned around once again. Days grow shorter, and darker. The cold is beginning to close in upon us. We have spun out the pleasures of another summer, another year and prepare to weather another winter. The world turns, and there’s nothing for it but to turn with it. Light to dark, dark to light. Fall. Winter. I’ll put my trust in Spring.