When we lived at Castenada Lane in Atascadero California, I looked forward to and preferred the time of the year when the valley Oaks were denuded and bare. Their silhouette was enchanting. The visual structure and form was an artistic marvel against the sky. It reminded me of the Lawrence Tree. And I could look in any direction and just see the rolling California hills all about.
The new fresh leaves in spring were always a happy promise, but by the Fall they were dark and grungy, beyond their time. And so it was a relief when they finally began to fall and die. Then I could see straight through the structure and welcome the sun by noon or look at the moon and the stars by night.
Here at Mt. Faith the leaves are falling and falling. And falling and falling. And falling and falling. Just yesterday I scooped up a foot deep just before the front door and merely an hour later we were clomping through another foot at least.
I have looked at the trees – the elms, the oaks, the maples, the ash – and wondered if I will revel in their silhouettes soon. But here we are up on this little rise, surrounded by an old grove and high hedges, and what we have especially loved about Mt. Faith so far, is that we have a sense of shelter. And so, I suspect, we will soon be denuded and exposed to the city and the world about. I’m not sure how I will feel about Mt. Faith and our sense of shelter then.
However, yesterday we went outside at dusk and got a hint of what might just compensate for a lack of leafy shelter. The prairie sky was all afire – in every direction! Not just the west. It’s a Minnesota sky. You betcha.
THERE’S THAT MOON! THIS COULD WORK.