Turn, Turn, Turn (Seasons change so quickly! Which one do you most look forward to? Which is your least favorite?)
‘Look this way mom. Isn’t it pretty? Mom!’
‘Yes. It is.Really!’ I said to my daughter as I wiped the sweats from my forehead. I craned my neck and looked at the beautiful Vernal Fall. We climbed the 600 steps in the Mist trail to get a close look. The cooling mist from the water fall on my face felt real good. I leaned against a big rock, lingered to rest, drew in a few more breaths of the clean air and enjoyed the breathtaking view of the water fall. From behind, I heard my husband’s voice, ‘ It is getting very crowded here so let’s move to see the Half-dome.’ I tucked my hair behind the ear, adjusted the pink baseball hat on my head and cleaned the eye-glass one more time before climbing down the rocks. I murmured, it is so hot, just like in Texas and must be more than ninety degree. That was our trip to Yosemite in a July fourth weekend, in one Summer. I enjoyed the view of the waterfalls, Half-dome, a few mule-dears in the beautiful Tuolumne Meadow, giant Sequoia trees, fine blue and red flowers of tall denotheras, radiant spraguea and blue and white geranium. But on the third day I could not bear the heat any more. I was tired of wiping sweats, cleaning my eye-glasses, spraying the mosquito sprays. I can not tolerate the heat or the summer.So that day, I decided that my vacation has to be only in cooler places and either in fall or in winter. Although at home, from the big glass window in the living room, the yellow and pink roses, purple wave Petunia, bright Zinnias, double color Dahlia, lavender and pink Asters in my front garden always look very pretty in Summer. Some days in the summer, when the west wind blows gently in the evening after eight, I take a long walk in the trail with my dog. She enjoys the bunnies, the squirrels and I enjoy the pretty blue-jays, Ruby-crowned King let, gold finch on the trees. In other days, I sit on the cream-white color sofa in my room, lace my fingers together on my lap and through the bay window enjoy the rain. After the rain the pockets of mist rise from the ground, rolling clouds drift past the moon, bringing light and shadow in equal measures.
“The rain comes down in a torrent sweep
And the nights smell warm and pinety,
The garden thrives, but the tender shoots
Are yellow-green and tiny.
Then a flash of sun on a waiting hill,
Streams laugh that erst were quiet,
The sky smiles down with a dazzling blue
And the woods run mad with riot.” – Paul Dunbar
I always wait for the beautiful, mysterious Fall. In the weekends, in early morning after my yoga stretches, I sit in the back yard on my swing with a warm cup of tea with a dash of cinnamon and ginger and enjoy the arrival of fall; the delicate and faint blue sky, the vibrant and rich jewel toned of the landscape, the crisp, cool air, the statement of the Sugar maple tree offering gorgeous red, orange and yellow leaves in the right corner of the yard. In the evening, I sit on a chair leaning back on the soft cushion and read my favorite books or rest my fingers on a low B flat and push down the keys of the piano to play some soft music. Last fall I took a hiking trip in Santa Fe and I did not mind the seven and half hours of hiking at all. I enjoyed the emerald evergreens, the blinding splashes of garnet and gold leaves, stands of deciduous trees along the verge looked like carnival clowns holding giant bunches of yellow, orange, red and green balloons and most of all the clean, cold air. Even during the hiking I was real brave on the switch backs. I was happy as a lark and on cloud nine. And yes. It is the Fall, the Autumn that makes my heart sing more than the other seasons.
” Autumn, the year’s last loveliest smile.”- William Cullen Bryant