Remember September ~

 

 Remember September, before she said goodbye?
She taught the youngest robins the way they ought to fly.
Around the mountain's sholders she draped a gypsie shawl,
And sent the breeze among the trees to sing about the fall.

I have always loved September!
It's the first hint that the smothering heat is coming to an end and Autumn is just around the corner.
Even before the temperature cools, the light begins to change, slanting though the windows, more gentle and golden then it's been all summer.
Suddenly the cat's all want to sleep by the window, curled in a warm patch of sun.
Things look more green outside, there are hummingbirds at our new feeder, more butterflies circling the garden. The sky is a more clear blue and it looks like a glimpse of Heaven.
And suddenly I am struck with the insatiable need to knit socks and shawls, and maybe a sweater or two. My fingers itch to sort through seed packets, the need to see little plant lives begin, while visions fill my head of dreamy fairytale gardens. And oh the comfort of a hot cup of tea, matcha or chai or dark English breakfast, softened with a dash of cream.
And the need to curl up and plan and make and nest. To flip through books, planning warm bread for Michalmas, and shining lanterns for Martinmas. Sweet almond cookies for the feast of Saint Francis, and yellow saffron cakes for Santa Lucia.
Dreams of cornhusk dolls and spiced apple cider, grandma's pumpkin pie and glowing harvest moons.

Remeber September, before she went away?
She taught the cricket fiddlers the songs they ought to play.
She gave the modest Maple a dress of red and gold,
And showed the mouse a little house to keep him from the cold.

Welcome, Lady Autumn!
I have waited all year for your return.

~ "Remember September" is an old song from the beautiful book Sing Through the Seasons published by Plough Publishing House.

the curio cabinet

 

 

I have realized that I live in a cabinet of curiosity.

A library mixed with a zoo with a little bit of time travel thrown in.

Especially since the hurricane, everything has felt a bit like we have stepped through Alice's looking glass and into a very strange wonderland, where past and future exist together, and the present is only a dream of a dream.

My mom said as much today as she walked through the front room. It's filled with pottery collected by my grandma, things my papa brought home from the middle east, toys from my mother's childhood, china from three great grandmothers, and so many other relatives who's names it is impossible to keep straight.

And its this room that has become my bedroom now.

I quite enjoy it ~ being in the middle of everything.

Being sounded by antiques and rock collections and hand stitched quilts and the family bustle.

My grandma lost her house in the flood, so she and her two cats here too.

The first day my parents could get back into the neighborhood they got out the quilts. As many quilts as they could carry. We had planed to get out some more things the next day, but then the water began to rise.

There was nearly five feet of water in Grammy's house at it's deepest, and at least three feet sitting there for ten days.

When the water finally receded enough, my parents and some friends got out the china, hand panted by great-great-aunt Marty and great-great-grandma Ezraetta. The had to hack the back of a set of drawers apart with a hoe to be able to get out the family silver, because the wood had swollen and warped and was already beginning to fall apart.

We had kept some of our most special dolls over at grandma's. to keep them safe... All the dolls that our grandparents had brought us from there trips around the world - from Alaska to Russia, Africa to Poland - were lost. But somehow, my little Poly, a Madam Alexander doll who had come from my other grandpa when I was six, somehow she was completely dry.

And eventually all the Bryers horses that had come from my mother's childhood were found. They had all floated around the house, behind doors and under tipped over chairs, and the last had to be fished out from under a bed that had floated about the room.

And so the horses join the rescued dolls, the pet fish (and frog), the turtles that had to come in during the flooding, and then again when they sprayed with insane insecticides,  and the butterflies I've been raising through all of this. They have given me hope in all of this, been the beauty in my day. That I can focus on them, protect them, helping them when I can't do much else.

So now I live in a museum of family history, of nature study and fantasy, and it suite me just fine.