Sunday, September 10, 2017

A Touch of Orange

September 10, 2017

There's more than a hint of autumn in the air. Today, on this last day of my end-of-summer vacation, it was a mere 48F when I rolled out of bed this morning at six o'clock. As my coffee brewed, my thoughts were to the effect of it was going to be chilly at the last family reunion of the year, this being my maternal grandmother's family. And it was. 

Cool and breezy aside, I enjoyed the reunion. It's nothing like the reunions of the past when my great-grandmother and her brood were alive. It's sad in some respects but this is the way of world. The eleven siblings of that first generation have passed. The second generation has lost a few owing to the fact that there were so many of them and the age spread is vast. The cousin I grew up with, she and me being close in age, is part of the second generation with my mother yet she is only a year older than me, and twenty years younger than my mother. It's this age spread that makes the family genealogy great fun to work. 

I noticed something else this morning as I stood on my little private porch. The maple tree on the crest of the bank is displaying a touch of orange. Of all the trees on my property, this tree is the show stopper as this old photo attests. 

It's grown a bit over the years. We're preparing to cut down the tree behind it to give it some extra room. It's simply too beautiful in the fall to let the other trees crowd it. 

With autumn arriving early, I ponder the summer just past. It almost feels like summer bypassed the mountain. We're using to week after week of hazy, hot, and humid days - Triple H days. We had too few to even remember. 

Dry? Drought? Burning bans? No, not this past summer. The grass is greener than green, full and healthy. No browned out spots at all. The old Jackmanni clematis had blooms on it all summer long - still does for that matter. That has never, ever happened before. 

Going back to the day job tomorrow will be difficult. I hate to miss these glorious days and be cooped-up inside an old dusty building. Every day I'll drive up my lane and take note of the maple tree on the bank. When the orange leaves finally drop, I'll prepare myself for another winter, and try to remember the summer that never really arrived. 

KC Kendricks

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