Tuesday, August 24, 2010
I know, I know, ‘It isn’t Fall yet, you stupid goat. It’s only August.’ The fact of the matter is, however, that the night before last it got down to 44 degrees and last night it was 48 degrees. Now, when one considers that 44 is only 12 measly degrees from freezing, it seems only natural that one’s thoughts might turn to Fall. Anyway, mine did and that’s that. So there.
Now Fall is a time of reflection for sure. Summer (if you actually had one) is full of running here and running there. Full of things like muse vacations, waiting for it to finally stop raining and then waiting for it to rain at all, baby birds and baby ducks, and of course, lovely, lovely green grass and the always-appreciated-but-far-too-meager Peanut hand-out. But like the trees and plants preparing for their long Winter sleep, we, too, must go within to contemplate where we’ve been and where we want to be when Spring has finally sprung. (I’m thinking first in line to get out there to that tender, new grass after months of nothing but dry old hay).
As I stand here on my beloved stump, I look out over the pasture. The leaves are beginning to yellow, some falling, but many more (drat!) still adhering firmly to the tree. A few green blades (thank goodness!) peek through the long-dead stalks laden heavily with seed. If only Peanuts grew above ground and in the Pacific Northwest. I would be the richest of goats.
I watch Watson as he wanders stiffly by in search of leaves Boo and Ella may have missed. (Heaven knows that’s the only way he’ll get any.) Boo picks up a leaf , lifting her head ever so slightly, as she begins to contemplate some deep mystery – probably something like ‘what is that thing sticking up behind me (her tail) and why is it following me?’ Consequently, consumed by her thought processes (such as they are), she spits out the leaf having forgotten what it was she was doing in the first place. Watson is on it like one of those baby ducks on a June bug – Boo-spit and all. ‘Ahhh, Autumn…’, I sigh. (Even though it is only August).
Soon we’ll probably be seeing those stupid Woolly Boogers – or not. I guess it all depends on what kind of a winter they think we’re going to have. Last year we didn’t see any at all. (I think N.O.A.A. hired them all, and it’s a darned good thing since the Woolly Boogers are far better at predicting the weather than those guys.) The wind will begin blowing the leaves hither and yon (‘Yon’ being a relative term dependent upon which side of the fence you are on.), and we goats will begin to don our winter coats (some of us ending up looking like the Woolly Boogers).
Ah, yes. A time of reflection indeed. How many Peanuts can one consume during a long cold winter? Will there be any three-to-a-shellers? Have I trained sufficiently this summer to be fast enough and strong enough to circumvent Ella’s efforts at being first when the Peanuts are handed out? Am I brave enough to do this? Ahh, Autumn. You grace us with your presence (Even if it is only August.)
“The foliage has been losing its freshness through the month of August, and here and there a yellow leaf shows itself like the first gray hair amidst the locks of a beauty who has seen one season too many.” ~Oliver Wendell Holmes