The excitement of bow hunting and bagging a buck yesterday has passed and today...back to the grind of Fall chores. There is concurrent sadness and anticipation within the task of taking down all of Rauhallinen Farm's gardens. Sadness associated with the loss of color, subjects for the studio, and the general beauty of the property that took so long to become fully bloomed. Each plant told its story on a unique time frame, exclusive to that species. The summer gardens were an ongoing symphony. But also time to anticipate what I consider to be the the best seasons of the year to work with the camera-Fall and Winter.There are so many activities that I enjoy in the winter here, it is hard to pick one some days, at the exclusion of others (photography, snowshoeing, x-country skiing, ice fishing). Felt good to sleep in this morning, a luxury that my internal clock does not allow for most days. On my second cup of coffee, reading emails, paying bills, and on to plant removal, emptying over 20 pots and hanging baskets, taking down bird houses, and waiting to light the wood boiler within the next few weeks.
Dear One Absent This Long While
By Lisa Olstein
It has been so wet stones glaze in moss;
everything blooms coldly.
I expect you. I thought one night it was you
at the base of the drive, you at the foot of the stairs,
you in a shiver of light, but each time
leaves in wind revealed themselves,
the retreating shadow of a fox, daybreak.
We expect you, cat and I, bluebirds and I, the stove.
In May we dreamed of wreaths burning on bonfires
over which young men and women leapt.
June efforts quietly.
I’ve planted vegetables along each garden wall
so even if spring continues to disappoint
we can say at least the lettuce loved the rain.
I have new gloves and a new hoe.
I practice eulogies. He was a hawk
with white feathered legs. She had the quiet ribs
of a salamander crossing the old pony post road.
Yours is the name the leaves chatter
at the edge of the unrabbited woods.