It’s certainly that time of year again – Fall in New England. Not only do the mornings require sweaters (over long sleeved shirts), but the blankets have all been taken from storage, shaken out, and piled high on the beds (in one case, so high that it’s difficult to turn over under the covers at night – that’s the way she likes it, as long as her foot can still find “the cold spot.) Even TV watching and book reading is done under evening throws with a mug of hot cider keeping fingers warm enough to hit tiny remote buttons or turn thin, dry book pages.
Slippers not used since last Spring are rediscovered waaaaay back under the beds, and the protest smell of burnt dust from the heat that reluctantly kicked on greets us in the mornings.
We all cautiously step around the remnants of summer not quite put away – the last of gardening supplies that need to go into the shed, the pool toys, lying forlornly in a corner.
The flock notices the changes and they seem a bit confused – where is the sun’s warmth. What’s up with the leaves on the ground? But they quickly adjust – the sun will be back in the afternoon and under the leaves you can often find the juiciest of bugs.
It’s not good or bad, it’s just another transition leading the way onward in the direction where we are all supposed to be going.
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Wendy Thomas writes about the lessons learned while raising children and chickens in New Hampshire. Contact her at [email protected]
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