A few days of warm weather recently motivated us to finish the last of autumn’s major outdoor chores. The deck furniture and grill have been stored in the garage, the porch sealed, and most of the gardens trimmed back for their winter’s rest. The cottage garden outside the kitchen window and the last of the fallen leaves await one of November’s moderate days for our attention.
All of that was done just in time for the season’s first really chilly days and the first whisper of snow in the forecast and well before Hurricane Sandy blustered through this week and brought most of the remaining leaves down. As usual, the silver maple out back stubbornly holds on to its mostly green leaves. It won’t give them up until the raking of them requires several cups of strong hot chocolate laced with Bailey’s Irish Cream.
These chores left us feeling a little down, as they do every year. They bring on a melancholy that’s only exacerbated by the prospect of the season’s long nights and Buffalo’s notorious winter cloud cover. It’s difficult to put the gardens to rest and mark the end of another growing season. Then just when I start to give in to moping, I remember the cycle of seasons that will usher in spring in only a very few months, the sureness that in every ending is something of a beginning. I can rest in that knowledge during these few months that lie ahead.