Later that same day, in a cobblestoned alleyway surrounded with 100+ year old brick buildings, I turned a corner and came face to face with the most magnificently powerful horse. It was one of those experiences where you look around for someone, anyone, with whom to share the moment. This immense dappled gray horse (one of the mounted officer's steeds) stood tied to a post outside the old market building. The day was overcast. It felt as if I had been magically transported to another time, perhaps mid 19th century. We stood and looked at each other for a moment, I not wanting it to end, until it was time to leave. AGAIN! No Camera!
So my upcoming resolution for the new year is to never leave the house without the camera. Our area is just too rich and it's too easy to miss things.
I started posting pods the other day, and one of my favorites is the Common Rose Mallow - Hibiscus moscheutos L.. The pods turn a burnished brown, almost resembling leather, and then open to reveal the seeds. As it cracks open it looks like another blossom, only brown, matching the autumn. So far, I haven't noticed the plant spreading from the seeds. There are two - a white and a pink - and they are staying pretty much just that... two plants.
Today while I was sitting at the dining room table writing the Field Notes for the next issue, the sky outside caught my eye through the sliding glass doors. Sunbeams burst through the thick cloud and spilled onto the farm below. The brightly colored leaves will only be around for another day or so, and everything looks so pretty.
Then there is the maple growing off the corner of the deck. It is currently at such as size as to appear as a bush beside the second story deck. Looking out the door while getting coffee this morning, the blaze of yellow grabbed my attention against the morning mist.
It's another beautiful season here on the hill. There are still some herbs worth harvesting out there. The plantain shows up vibrantly against the grass that is turning a weathered gold. The rosemary waves to me through the office window, and the saffron continues to stay well beneath the soil, taunting me as I go look each day for signs of life.
Tomorrow the hillside will be full of families out choosing their trees. In another couple of weeks they'll be back to cut them, and take them home to decorate for the holidays. And then we will slide into another winter.