I have been spending time with my eldest child and expect to return home over the weekend.
I have been talking to her for a few years about wanting to see autumn here in the northeast, for myself, and the changing colors of leaves and trees. When we were here last spring, I observed trees in bloom along the highway and became familiar with native varieties including the Redbud. I remember feeling a tingle when I touched the branches and trunks of different trees when I paused in the moment and paid attention.
Prior to this arrival, at the beginning of November, Danielle cautioned me that the trees were turning brown and that I had missed most of the season. Overall her observation was accurate and she stands in better position to judge having lived here over a decade. Still, looking closely, I began noticing one tree at a time wherever we went - one a beautiful shade of burnt orange, another almost magenta, some yellows and greens in between. We imagined the trees as delighted patrons glancing in the mirror and tipping generously upon departure from the salon with « a new dye job! » I could see the trees - in shades of red, auburn, blonde and aubergine; colors that we have seen before - walking down the street atop the heads of very fashionable women!
I am making many new friends here!
Early one morning I took a walk down High Street to the cemetery. I was the only one there: inside walking among old graves, stone crosses and obelisks. As I walked past the tree with yellow leaves I caught a foul whiff and in an instant it was gone. While sitting on a bench writing in my journal, a car arrived with a man, a woman and their two dogs. (I have since seen a different vehicle with owners walking their dogs in the green space.)
On my way back to Danielle’s house, I looked down and found a five dollar bill on the sidewalk. I took this good fortune as a sign, a nod from the Universe. This found money was a blessing of seed for my next venture.
Years ago when I was a manager at a retail clothing store I recorded a sale as mine and a younger clerk challenged me and said that it didn’t matter to her because the bonus awarded for the sale was only $1 but she asserted « that was my sale. » I stepped back and reflected in the moment, then I apologized, told her she was right and I made the correction in the system - because it was her sale and as a manager I was responsible for developing sales staff and leading from behind.
I am reminded of having felt slighted time and again over the years, decades in fact, by others who used ideas, information and my work to further their self interests. I was turned down for jobs and denied promotions that I had earned. My work was not valued, at least not in the form of due financial compensation, and I did not feel seen or heard. Again and I again, « I just let it go » but not really. Over time, I had accumulated a backlog of anger, resentment and animosity over what I saw as the disingenuous, deceitful and self-serving actions of others. Learning not to be a victim of circumstance. What a difficult lesson!
The morning of the November new moon in Saggitarius, I walked out to blankets of leaves, yellow fans primarily, then Joseph’s coat of many colors from a different variety on the street and sidewalk farther down the block. The trees had gotten the message about the new moon and I was graced with being the first to walk on their newly fallen snow. As I looked above the trunk to the highest branches, leaves fell over my head like raindrops. I gave thanks to the Universe for sharing the variety of her splendor while reminding me of my own.
The yellow leaves were from the gingko tree that is used as a medicinal herb. I’ve learned a lot about this tree in the last couple of days. Called the maidenhair tree, they can live 1000 years or more and are the last surviving species of a genus that existed with the dinosaurs on Earth. The leaves are in fact the shape of and reminiscent of the maidenhair fern. Unlike the fern, that is finicky, delicate and shade loving, the tree thrives in direct sunlight.
My mother, Iris, and her mother, Ethel, were master gardeners. I have yet to hold a candle to their gifts and remain hopeful that there’s still time! In my grandmother’s yard, I would plan plant sales and she encouraged my entrepreneurial spirit at an early age. We never actually sold her plants but she supported my sales of my handmade tissue paper corsages and boutinnieres to neighbors around Easter. She would make the phone calls in advance - finding telephone numbers in her white, tattered, handwritten directory, then circling a right index finger seven times on the black rotary dial phone on her nightstand. Once the order was confirmed, I delivered and collected payment. To think that Mommie financed the supplies and didn’t even charge me a commission!
Without realizing it, I had been supported for a future that my grandmother would not live to see.
When I returned to the cemetery after the new moon, there were yellow leaves surrounding one tree creating a circle well over twenty yards in diameter. I wanted to take a photo of myself lying on the ground making snow angels - well « leaf angels » would be more accurate in autumn. I sat on the ground then lay on the yellow carpet when - damn - something smelled really bad! I looked at the soles of my shoes, remembering that the place doubled as a dog park. Then something told me to pick up one of the fruit mingled in with the leaves. It stink, stank, stunk! I had identified the source of my displeasure yet still took advantage of my photo opportunity!
Back at the house I learned online that the mature female gingko tree produces foul smelling fruit and that the seeds continue to be foraged for food. Landscapers typically plant male trees, for this reason. I wonder what the evolutionary advantage of stinky fruit was a million years ago? Here’s the crazy part - the tree has inspired me to harvest fruit for planting in one of my gardens as a symbol of my intention to create work and leave an impression on earth that can endure for 1000 years. There is a 50:50 chance that the seeds will be male or female. And God spare life, by the time the trees bear fruit in 25 years or so, I may have opportunity to have a good laugh at the expense of dog walkers and visitors to my garden!
Right now while boiling potatoes and eggs for Iris’ potato salad, I acknowledge that today I would like to continue to live with great ease, expectation and wonder.
Today I would like to go for a walk in the park.