"What do you plan to do with your one, wild, precious life?" -Mary Oliver

Monday, October 24, 2011

Where Did It Go?

Yesterday, we pulled the soaker hoses and the tomato cages. I cleaned the greenhouse and mounded dirt around the pepper plants. They need a lot of tender care and we dropped the sides and shut the doors and watered them properly so we will have peppers at Christmas time. Red and green and yellow and orange. Like a Mexican Christmas, but we are here in Michigan, and the night approaches,


and the sun doesn't set where it used to. At the height of day, it is no longer where it should be. It doesn’t touch the front of the house, it doesn’t touch the mums in full dress. No wonder they stretch and stretch and turn leggy, reaching for the sun which slips further and further down the sky. It slips towards Detroit and the Detroit River. It’s falling into Lake Erie and over Ohio. It's falling towards Mexico where they can grow peppers in winter. Falling falling falling like the leaves from the maple and the oak we named after his parents. Strong and resilient, planted to survive and thrive long after we’re gone. Like the oak that was big when my father was small. Planting a tree is an unselfish gesture. It’s one of the best things we can do.

15 comments:

Anne Gallagher said...

My mother has a tomato that grew out of a fallen summer fruit. I told her we should put it into a container and keep it in the house to see what would happen but there's not enough sunlight now. It's a shame too, because it's a nice size.

I wonder if we did pot it and put it under a grow light? Think it would keep?

Yvonne Osborne said...

Hi Anne,
I had tomatoes in the greenhouse last year through December. Then it got too cold. If you have room inside you could try this. Nothing to lose. You might not get much fruit production but it would over-winter and then you could put it back outside come May.

Lydia Kang said...

So true! If we all planted a tree it would be a small gift back considering how much we take from the earth.

Tricia J. O'Brien said...

Again your words brought me to your corner of the world and I loved it. thanks for the images and thoughts to ponder.

Liza said...

I am missing the sun now, and we don't get much even in mid-summer. I love that your greenhouse allows you to extend the growing season.

Anthony Duce said...

I like so much the observations where you are here in Michigan. It amazes me how easy it is loose track of the change in season, caught up here in a city, not really that far away.

Jemi Fraser said...

My parents planted trees when each of the grandchildren was born. I love this idea!! :)

Yvonne Osborne said...

Lydia,
True, a small gift back. Thanks.

Tricia,
Thank you so much. I'm glad you like it and consider my scattered thoughts worth pondering!

Liza,
Yes, the greenhouse is a haven of quiet and warmth, and these days, relief from the wind!

Tony,
I suppose there is a huge difference between the bustle of the city and the pace here in the country. Such a difference that even the change in seasons is less noticable. You gotta get your hands in the dirt,man, and reconnect to the earth!

Jemi,
What a lovely idea. Better than a savings bond these days!

Travener said...

Nice little story. I like winter enough, but I do miss the sun, especially in late December, when it's dark before 5.

Yvonne Osborne said...

We thrive in the sun. Anything is possible on a sunny day. Dark of winter, not so much.

Yvonne Osborne said...

ah, Travener, that was for you. I'm already light-deprived. Thanks for commenting!

Searching for the Story said...

"It’s falling into Lake Erie and over Ohio. It's falling towards Mexico where they can grow peppers in winter. Falling falling falling like the leaves from the maple and the oak we named after his parents."

This is such beautiful writing.

I'd be very eager to read a book-in-progress from you.

I've noticed that the sun is lower here at high noon as well, and I'm in Virginia. The sky used to get cerulean in the day and now it manages just a bit lighter than navy.

Yvonne Osborne said...

S.,
Thank you so much!

I would love to have a fresh eye read my WIP. And feedback from an obviously accomplished reader such as yourself would be invaluable to me. Email me or I will you.

Thank you.

L. Diane Wolfe said...

It seems the summer evenings last and last, and then one day, it's suddenly dark after dinnertime. Time slips by so fast.
And I can look out at our backyard to three pine trees that weren't even here when we moved in. Time has passed by fast.

Yvonne Osborne said...

Diane,
Yes, it's always a surprise how the pine trees suddenly emerge and stand alone. Thank you for commenting!