Autumn

Walked around the yard, yesterday. The ground squished under my feet after all the rain. Since the plants are all dying or going dormant (according to their nature, and not their nurture, I hope.), there is little, other than the earth, herself to absorb the water. Another hard freeze or two, and I will go and clean out the vegetable beds, I want to make sure that ALL the ticks are gone for the year, first. Two bouts with antibiotics for tick bites was enough, thank you.

But just when I was thinking that this was the doorway season, no colorful leaves, no growing things, no pretty frost patterns or snow, I came to my saffron crocuses. Even if they produced no useful herb, no aromatic matter, I would grow these. What else blooms, year after year, this late in the fall? And homegrown saffron! It dyes my fingers, as if with powdered gold, when I harvest it. It scents my skin, the food I cook with it, incense I make with it. And, it brings with it, into this doorway season, a sense of wealth, of finding gold, under the litter and leaves of a previous season.