My World: Signs of the Season

It’s the best time of day out here on the patio. The sunlight is soft and warm as it falls over the edge of Mt. Fagan. It casts a silvery golden luminescence over the slopes and into the sky. As I gaze off to the southeast towards the mountain, the air seems to simply sparkle at this time of the morning. It draws me towards it as if I could follow and find myself awake in a dream.

(Rock Wren by Gus Feb 2008)

I’m sitting here under the covered patio thinking of autumn and winter holidays. I am far from my family and all the familiar signs of the season. There are no honking geese overhead, no dry rustle of fallen leaves blowing about in the corners of the yard. I am in a new place with new signs of the change of seasons. Here I have the trill of the rock wrens as they bob along my block wall, or call from the neighbor’s rooftop.

Here the phainopeplas have returned to guard the mistletoe that is one of their food sources, the ripe berries red against azure blue skies.

Here in Sycamore Canyon the winter raptors have returned, and the Cooper’s hawk is hunting my bird feeder on an almost daily basis. Yesterday it once again dropped onto the fence along the wash peering deep into the brittle bush as if it had x-ray vision. Then I watched amazed as it dove deep into the foliage and was swallowed up by leaves. It emerged empty taloned and hungry and rose into the afternoon blue of a faded sky.

(Cooper's Hawk 11-23-08 by Kathie through the glass of the den window.)

This morning I am sitting here with my breakfast spread before me. I pulled a pair of pants on under my nightgown and threw on a sweater. I want to be out here before the light changes. I want to be out here in the magic. I notice that I am eating pumpkin muffins, and half a grapefruit. I am drinking Suisse Mocha in my red Christmas mug where a jolly snowman smiles back at me. This is the only snowman I will be seeing here in the desert. In another glass I have poured myself some apple cider. I realize I am craving the foods of autumn. It’s as if I want to eat the holidays.

The wind is starting to pick up as I sit here. We are in for a change the weatherman says. By Thanksgiving we could have temps in the low 60’s and rain. He said it has only rained one out of every ten Thanksgivings here in Tucson. I know that last year Gus and I ate breakfast on the patio in our shorts bathed in a warm autumn light. Today I see a few high thin clouds drifting across the sky. Are these the vanguards of the coming storm, or just a tease? I will find a new way to enjoy the holidays in this desert landscape. I am learning the new signs of the season. Like the wildlife around me, I will adapt and change and grow, but in my mind I will also remember New England where, at least in my childhood, we drove past naked trees over snow covered roads on the way to Nana’s house on Thanksgiving Day. The snow crunched under our feet as we traipsed from the car to the back door and entered the warmth of her house like an embrace.

Visit MY WORLD Tuesday for your own personal tour around the globe!