Harvest

Today, Small Child and I saw our first V of geese.

A few days ago, a beautiful, giant full moon hung low in the sky.

Here and there, leaves go golden.

The squirrels have been frantic for a couple of weeks, and Large Dog has been in what can only be described as a manic state.

And exactly one year ago tonight, I wrote a post that ended with the words, “I wish it would rain,” words that crossed my mind endlessly today as my feet crunched across dry grass on cracked earth.

All signs point to autumn. To fall. To harvest.

But I’m anxious.

I have not been tending my garden lately. Since I began blogging 18 months ago, I’ve sown many seeds (consciously and otherwise). I grew weary of carrying water when the rains stopped. I’ve veered off into the easy subjects, partisan politics, sentiment-at-hand. 

Honestly? I’m not even sure I remember what seeds I threw in which direction. I didn’t keep good records. Some plants looked promising but withered in the brutal summer sun. Others I just abandoned, too busy to water. Entire sections fell to mysterious blight. I put a few seed packets down and forgot about them; plants sprouted right out of the paper. The months have been that way.

The months have been so much that way that often many go by without a glance at the garden. But autumn forces the gaze.

Some of those seeds have grown into plants I really can’t ignore any longer, the kind that crack walkways, ruin foundations, choke out desirable species. The tough, spiny ones that can live without irrigation or attention. It’s time for me to face my fear of runaway vegetation. Gotta thin, prune, mulch.

I don’t think I’m the only one who feels this way. You only have to flip on the news or walk through a store to hear uneasiness, fear, and worry.

But not all gardeners have been dithering or wringing their hands. I admire their work.

One is seeing her children through transitions joyous and painful, making enormous sacrifices yet still finding time to laugh, play, create and be a wonderful friend.

Another has, in what most find a daunting economic climate, listened to his heart and birthed a second successful business that feeds his soul.

Yet another, who completely plowed under a marriage of many years and lost much in the process, found not only freedom but also a second go at love and parenthood.

Finally, a friend and fabulous writer with talent and discipline and wit persevered right into a two-book deal.

It’s been a heavy year, friends. I don’t know what I’m going to find out there when I pull on my gloves, pick up the shovel, and start digging. Somehow, I don’t think I’ll find succulent autumn vegetables, as much as I adore them.

Whatever I find, I’ll do my best to make it relevant and readable. If not, you can always toss it in the compost.

Now I really need a glass of that Strenuous Tongue Cabernet!

I just thought I'd been rendered mute by melancholy. Last night's debate, and the events of the days leading up to it, made me more so.

Tell me why the Secret Service did not arrest the individual who shouted "Kill him!" (calling for, if you have not heard about this, Obama's assassination) during a McCain/Palin rally.

Tell me why McCain felt that a young black man would not have heard of the two largest mortgage programs in America.

Tell me why the man who wants to lead our country into a era of smaller government last night proposed having the government buy up mortgages.

Tell me why the same man could not correctly state the details of his own health plan, suddenly promising a 5K credit per individual American rather than per household.

Tell me why Rush Limbaugh, a man I foolishly listened to this morning, is now blaming the entire "bailout" (the one proposed initially by the current president) on the Democrats, claiming it is an Obama plan to socialize our nation's economy.

Tell me why the same talk show host is saying, many times a day, that Obama and Osama bin-Ladin are the same because they "know terrorists."

Tell  me why fliers are appearing in low income Philadelphia neighborhoods warning people that, "according to an Obama operative," if they have any outstanding warrants (even for traffic tickets) or prior felony convictions they should "take care of them" before voting because police will be at the polls to arrest them. Maybe it would be best to stay home.

Tell me why people are willing to believe in and act on such vitriol.

Tell me why I am supposed to feel pride for my country instead of sadness and shame.

Tragedy and Travesty

Of course, you've all seen the CNN and Weather Channel footage of Hurricane Ike.  And the coverage of the horrendous train accident in Los Angeles. 

My heart goes out to all those who suffer, and my gratitude is immense that my friends in Houston are safe, even if their homes sustained damage. 

On a micro scale, things aren't much better. One friend has been forced to hospitalize a child, just to make certain that insurance will "kick in" for the residential treatment the child needs. Two other families, both connected with the school system in different districts around the state, have insurance that is so worthless that their health is being compromised.  

And, in the face all this national pain, those who wish to be our leaders continue to smile and lie - so very certain of their position, facts be damned.

I see Sarah Palin, and I am reminded of Reagan - a plastic face with no relation to reality. My biggest fear is that the press and the public will continue to present more and ever more evidence of her unsuitability for any public office, but that none of the evidence will matter. Reagan, once called the "Teflon President," will appear - in retrospect - to have been covered with Velcro instead.

What can we do?  

Tonight I want to throw up my hands. 

But tomorrow I will try to remember that all I can do is live where I live in a way that demonstrates my beliefs. I can walk slowly, think clearly, and speak carefully. 

And I can try to find hope.

On My Mind...

We've had 15 inches of snow in the last week and I have a stack of grading at least that high (I exaggerate, but it is daunting), but I am thinking vigorously of things to write about.

"Like what?" you ask, full of skepticism.

Like a list of things, emotions, and ideas that folks seem to be experiencing in new and often difficult ways as 50 looms, things like

* Saying Goodbye, When You Thought You Were Done With Such Things
* Watching Young People Doing the Same Things You Did 30 Years Ago
* Sadness
* Taking Over the Reins
* Skin

I would welcome any additions or suggestions.