Acair Fearann

The gingkos had just turned gold about a day ago; the wind and the rain are quickly stripping them.  Usually, the big gingko off the northeast corner of the house drops its leaves straight down, all of a piece.  The fan shape of the leaf combined with its weight does not lend it good aerodynamic properties; more like a maple seed’s helicopter nature.  Once gingko leaves have turned color they do not stay on the tree for any length of time; in fact, following a hard freeze it can drop them in a matter of one or two hours, quite unlike oaks and beeches.   Today, the big one is acting as a beautiful wind direction indicator.  I must say it is a bit odd to see its leaves ending up west and south of the house.  Usually, if they go anywhere at all it is north and east.  But today they are being lifted up, over the house, and down on to the meadow.

Comments Off on Gingko rain

The crows have flown

Into the sun

The restless wind

Shifts around the compass points

Perhaps there will be a storm, perhaps not. 

But the house waits

A white crest where

The endless hills roll beyond.

Comments Off on drabble

I have no doubt that the leaf peepers have been somewhat disappointed this year: summer’s drought has been followed by high winds and rain, at all the wrong times.  Many trees have been stripped quickly, ruthlessly.  And yet…  Some years the woods are a blaze of colour, all red and orange.  This year is a golden year, with even the red maples leaning towards yellow.  Beaten gold, with shades of copper, brass, and bronze .  The lane was so bright it almost hurt to look at it.  The witchhazel and spicebushes were a shining gold understory, as fog might creep in the woods.  Arching above them, the beeches were a pure, sharp yellow; the maples shifted from bronze to copper to gold; the hickories were a glint of brass.  And, of course, the trunks…silver and iron.  And all backlit by the blazing blue sky.

Comments Off on Precious metals

Are always elegant.  Just after the storm, the clouds are streaks of steel gray; they drop down to meet with the rising valley fog.  The trees, brilliant gold and copper in the rising sun.  The grass of the meadow a rich green, even richer than spring.  The horse, a bronzed shadow waiting for the day’s warmth.

Comments Off on Fall Mornings

Old leaves, from summer’s  duty released,

Chase the wind,

The breaks of sun and cloud,

Across the forgotten meadows

Where, under a golden crown,

The grass bleaches to bone.

The old wooden fences

Are alight with living flame

Climbing ever higher to catch

The maples with fire.

Comments Off on Coming Fall

At some point in late August or September, the wind shifts.  This is, perhaps, more metaphorical than meteorological.  Yet, a storm will come through and in its wind is the coming winter.  There is a sharpness to the wind, not of temperature, but air quality.  A wild, clean scouring brush…the witches’ broom perhaps?  I love fall, especially the wild darkness of November.  We aren’t there yet.  But, the aftermath of today’s thunderstorms is unmistakable.  No doubt, hot, humid weather will return.  But it is losing. 

Comments Off on Witches of the wind

Most people have favourite birds, though choosing one species from so many is nigh on impossible.  I have always had a particular fondness for turkey vultures.*  That they are a necessary and unmistakable sign of mortality perhaps plays into it.  But mainly it is something about those great, silent wings.  It was a moment of brilliance the other morning, one of those crystal mornings that portend the early fall when the sky is a clear, shining aquamarine and the sun is a white-gold star, to watch the building column that spiralled ever higher, swift shadows between the land and the sun.  It was a flock of perhaps ten, probably migrating, drawn to the hayfield to check out the mowing.  They are clearly intelligent, having long since learned that machinery in hayfield means food.  Unlike crows or gulls, there is never any sound, though I believe they do talk when eating or roosting, just the sweep of their wings.

*I would not care to have them roosting near my house though, by all accounts that is less than desirable

Comments Off on Turkey Vultures