Well, that's it for my tomatoes. They froze last night.
It's autumn in Central Oregon. My mother, who grew up in Massachusetts, derides it. She says you can't tell the difference between the seasons out here.
True, we don't have a glorious display of color like you east coasters. If you want to really see the leaves change, you have to go out of your way -- you have to drive to Shevlin Park, or over one of the mountain passes. No, to sense autumn in Central Oregon, you have to pay closer attention.
The smell is different. The quality of the sunlight changes. It's still hot in the sun, but the shadows are longer and much cooler and, of course, the days are shorter. (When my husband takes the kids outside after work, he has to bring a backpack full of warm things that he piles onto them as they walk along. By the time they come back inside, their hands are freezing.)
The squirrels turn manic in the fall. The ponderosa in the middle of our back deck grows monumental pinecones which the squirrels decimate; they pull the nuts out, dropping each "leaf" of the pinecone onto the deck, and then they pitch the rest. Ka-thump. The sound on the roof is quite scary, and if you're on the deck when one of them falls -- well, God help you. The squirrels also grow braver and one will stand on the deck, sorting through the debris, while Sasha chatters at him from the other side of the screen door. One of her few multi-word sentences is, "Where'd the squirrel go?" asked with her palms upraised and her little eyes searching the tree limbs for a sign.
The Canadian geese have been practicing their formations and calling their particular autumn call; I haven't heard the doves in awhile (have I?); and there's a bird, which I do not think is a woodpecker but which does bang its head on the trees, that is making a new and very pretty sound.
And, of course, the neighborhood is silent during the day because the children are in school.
I love this time of year.
4 comments:
Sasha talking in sentences??! Movies, please...
It sounds like Fall falls quickly there. It's much more subtle here and catches me unawares. The humidity has left the air (finally!) which is such a respite that all living things - people, grass, shrubs - stand up taller, taking a deep breath after unloading such a burden. The leaves on my neighbor's tree are turning and starting to fall. I was staring at them the other morning trying to diagnose what was wrong with the tree, when it hit me: oh, right...Fall.
That and the clutch of surly, not-morning-people pre-teens who wait for the bus on the corner. I pass them on my way out of the neighborhood for an early morning run and try not to say Ha! Ha! ;)
We're originally from California, but we lived in Massachusetts for a while. (Husband, in fact, was there for 10 years. I was only there for 3.) The seaons out there are remarkable. And, they're definitely not subtle!
I really like your description of the west coast seasonal change. I can feel it . . . it just doesn't come up and bite you in the butt!
The squirrel part cracked me up. Just yesterday I took In-fant on a walk, and I thought the squirrels were acting a bit more bravely. I thought one of them was going to jump off a tree and attack us!
Tod-lar just went through the "Where'd _____ go?" with palms raised. It's sooooo cute. That must be inate!
I love fall. Your descriptions are positively poetic!
My mother says that the bird which is not a woodpecker but which bangs its head is called a nuthatch. In case anyone is wondering.
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