October 02, 2003 5:36 P.M.

On October�

�The special gift of frosty days comes now; time to lay down the household tasks and shut the door on routine. For every October, when I see the trees over the meadow, I think, "I shall not look upon her like this again." And every October is different, strange with new beauty.�

Gladys Taber�s Stillmeadow

Autumn in New England�arrives with a different attitude than it does in Southern California. New England autumns are celebrated and memorialized. California autumns are barely noticed.

But they do come. And this year, autumn seems to have arrived a little earlier than it normally does. It slipped in while we were still cranking up the air conditioning, and hiding indoors.

One morning, I awoke and the sun was not shining. I wondered if I had awakened too early. I crossed the room to the window, pulled the cord to the blinds and peered out. A gray cloudy mist was sliding under the sunshine and a cool breath of air swept through the open window.

Autumn had arrived early and in a proper manner, this year.

We are fond of saying that �it is really hot until Halloween,� and then it dramatically cools down, the day before the Trick or Treaters are to go out; which then requires an unwanted sweater or jacket over their costumes.

This year, Fall came in gently during the night, and so far, has agreed to stay on.

In autumn, every morning is gray until the sunshine slowly brushes back the wisps of mist and the sky becomes more and more bright. But it doesn�t bring heat. It just brings light.

The leaves on every growing plant are rustling with a breeze that feels as though it just floated in from a mountain lake, inviting us out of our cloistered shells. The truly visible aspects of autumn are not here for the most part�it is a feeling�an atmosphere�a meteorological attitude, if you will. But it is here. And I think it might not turn around and change its mind this year.

At least I hope that is true. Remember, - autumn is my favorite season of the year. Even in California.

If I look closely, there are a few little indications hidden in my garden. A reddish leaf, on my grape leaf ivy, tucked almost out of sight.

The four o�clocks have rusting leaves and their magenta blooms have dropped, to reveal shiny black seeds in their place.

My four o�clocks have a history. In �Johnny Appleseed� fashion, I have harvested the black seeds at the end of each summer since my very first home, and I have planted them in each successive garden. They have been carried from Kentucky to California�don�t tell the California Agricultural Department. They started off with five colors of blossoms: magenta, white, yellow and pinkish lavender. All that has remained over the years, is the magenta. I stopped harvesting the seeds about three years ago, and the plants seemed to be fading away. I had planned to sell my home, and I was anticipating moving to an apartment or condominium complex where I would have no place to plant them. It was sort of the end of a tradition.

Well, I didn�t sell the house, and this year I paid off the mortgage. The four o�clocks seemed to revive and flourish a little, back in their corner of the garden. I know there is no correlation between the two�but, hey�who knows?

Text � copyright 2003 - 2008 The Homespun Philosopher

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