Something Wicked Wants To Get a Move On

 

By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes
                                                                                                                  -Macbeth-

 

There is a Maple  tree outside of my kitchen window much like the one in the picture above.

When I am cooking or watering my Jade plant I take the time to look into the tree and see if the leaves are turning to fall colors yet.

They are not turning colors.

They leaves are green and still firmly attached to the Maple trees branches.

I’ve never hated a tree so much in my life.

 

Photo by Sarah Trummer on Pexels.com

It’s been brutally hot by Pacific Northwest standards, the air has been until recently filled with smoke from raging forest fires outside of our State and those leaves, some of you will be glad to read, have not gone into shock and dropped early.

I am someone who loves the Fall- short days, long nights and with any luck those nights will be cold and call for me to bundle up when I walk my dog, Hamish Macbeth,  in the evening. There is something about the sound of leaves- dry ones coated with the finest layer of frost – crunching under my feet and Hamish’s paws that makes me want to walk slower and farther into the Fall evening then I would on a Spring or Summer Evening.

When Hamish Macbeth and I are out on those evening walks and the leaves are crumbling under foot and paw,  I believe I feel  like I am dancing on the graves of thousands of dead Spring mornings and thousands of Sun drenched Summer days.

As I wrote that thought down I must admit I smiled.

I laughed a little too.

 

Photo by Stephanie Borkowski on Pexels.com

 

When I go home tonight, I will  try to take my time to getting to my kitchen window. I will try to not pull the blinds up right away. I will not hope against hope that the leaves will be turning blood red and that some will have already fallen to the ground where they will shortly meet me and Hamish Macbeth on our brisk and purposeful  Evening walk.

The Season must change.  It’s the way things are.

We are born, we blossom, we soak up the world around us and then we give up the ghost and move along to someplace else.

The problem is, some of us take our sweet time about it- like that Maple tree outside of my kitchen window.

For now I shall try to be a little more patient.

I will make more of an effort to be in tune with Mother Earth and Mother Nature and the passage of time and I will not think about my well sharpened axe and  well used machete hanging in my storage shed.

For now.

 

Daily Addictions Prompt: Approach

 

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