Last Friday, I had an autumn garden.
I took pictures that day of some of my garden spots in the wane. And in the rain. The gradual decline in my borders moves me. I am taken by the richly colored remains of abundance and harvest. Maybe I am luxuriating in a certain sort of closure. An aftertaste? Or perhaps just feeling blessed. I especially love how the rose hips and pumpkin collaborate…
It drizzled all day, and next morning, the drizzle turned to snow. Creating a beautifully different kind of abundance. The difference took my breath away….
As it did the goats.
They are not as intrepid as the chickens; when the weather is wet, they hang out in their house, or lounge in their front porch enclosure…exchanging anecdotes, playing pinochle, watching reruns of “The Love Boat” (or maybe planning their next Great Escape, in which they will get no further than three feet outside their gate, where they will stop and nibble on the last autumnal leaves–and twigs–of my baby pear trees). Cricket (she’s the one peeking from her doorway) ventured out to me when I visited that snowy Saturday morning; but it was several more hours before either she or Genie tiptoed further into their yard. Stepping dainty. They are supposed to be tough enough for the stuff, but they really don’t like it.
Meanwhile, I begged Ezra to build snowmen.
I offered to pay him five dollars for every mid-size snowman he built (what is the going rate for snowmen, anyway?). I wanted a horde, a posse, a small army, frozen (as it were) in some epic, bizarre, hilarious conflict. A Calvin and Hobbes creation (we are all fans of Calvin and Hobbes here). Ezra built two, with Meisha’s help. They split ten dollars between them (who else has to pay their kids to build snowmen?)… and this is how their statuary looked, by Monday. Calvin and Hobbes enough. Or Tim Burton? Well.
The rose hips in the snow were lovely, weren’t they?
