Why fall is fine
Night blooming cereus
Bois d'arc apple
Two buckeyes and the hull
Ginger lily
Monarch butterly lands on zinnia
Persimmon treePersimmon tree
Persimmon tree
Spider lily
Persimmon tree
Spider lilyPhotos by Paul L. Schuetze/The Times
Fall is coming our way.
I feel it and I see it on our seven acres surrounded by woods on The Road, the Old Mooringsport Road where I live with husband Paul L. Schuetze.
I see it in:
The eight night blooming cereus buds that unfurled one coolish fall night recently filling the air with their subtle scents from a rim of pots under the old oak tree outside the kitchen window.
The plants are ungangly and ugly, but every time they bloom, I think how worth it to haul them back and forth each fall and spring, some years for just for one blossom.
The change in color of the river oats from green to taupe as the heads blow softly in the wind in their spot near the bridge and close by the tree house that overlooks the glen.
The huge Granny apple green bois d’arc apples which drop from ancient trees in the front and back of the property.
The red spider lilies that pop up overnight here, there and yonder around the acreage.
The clusters of St. Joseph lilies that congregate in the contemplative and the shade gardens.
The buckeye plants hidden away along an ancient cattle walk which this year yielded two buckeyes from their dry, withered plants ... that are so awesomely beautiful in the spring.
The persimmons turning slowly from green to soft coral in a tree that hugs the western end of the house.
The migrating monarch butterflies that flutter through the year-end blooms of the primary-hued zinnia patch in the side yard.
The French mulberry plants ripe with magenta berries along their branches.
The ginger lilies, because they remind me so much of my mother, Sabra B. Martin, who cherished them in her passalong garden.
The moonflower vine making a last stand, its buds unfolding as sunset fades, the sun sets and dark falls gently over our land.
Always, fall has been my favorite season.
October my favorite month because it is my birthday month. And, although my childhood parties were never elaborate, they were always special.
My mother made birthday cakes from scratch and covered with time consuming seven-minute icing and pumpkins she squeezed from a tube — nothing fancy, just from an aluminum kit.
Fall. I welcome its memories and its present beauty.
I feel it and I see it on our seven acres surrounded by woods on The Road, the Old Mooringsport Road where I live with husband Paul L. Schuetze.
I see it in:
The eight night blooming cereus buds that unfurled one coolish fall night recently filling the air with their subtle scents from a rim of pots under the old oak tree outside the kitchen window.
The plants are ungangly and ugly, but every time they bloom, I think how worth it to haul them back and forth each fall and spring, some years for just for one blossom.
The change in color of the river oats from green to taupe as the heads blow softly in the wind in their spot near the bridge and close by the tree house that overlooks the glen.
The huge Granny apple green bois d’arc apples which drop from ancient trees in the front and back of the property.
The red spider lilies that pop up overnight here, there and yonder around the acreage.
The clusters of St. Joseph lilies that congregate in the contemplative and the shade gardens.
The buckeye plants hidden away along an ancient cattle walk which this year yielded two buckeyes from their dry, withered plants ... that are so awesomely beautiful in the spring.
The persimmons turning slowly from green to soft coral in a tree that hugs the western end of the house.
The migrating monarch butterflies that flutter through the year-end blooms of the primary-hued zinnia patch in the side yard.
The French mulberry plants ripe with magenta berries along their branches.
The ginger lilies, because they remind me so much of my mother, Sabra B. Martin, who cherished them in her passalong garden.
The moonflower vine making a last stand, its buds unfolding as sunset fades, the sun sets and dark falls gently over our land.
Always, fall has been my favorite season.
October my favorite month because it is my birthday month. And, although my childhood parties were never elaborate, they were always special.
My mother made birthday cakes from scratch and covered with time consuming seven-minute icing and pumpkins she squeezed from a tube — nothing fancy, just from an aluminum kit.
Fall. I welcome its memories and its present beauty.
posted by Maggie Martin at 4:51 PM
5 Comments:
Lovely piece. When you write about your land it puts me in mind of May Sarton's journals.
annie schuetze
Thank you. It is a special place
This comment has been removed by the author.
Thank you for the wonderful pictures of fall in Shreveport! Like you my favorite season is fall and I do think it has something to do with the fact my birthday is also in October. I have not seen spider lilys since I moved to Tennessee nineteen years ago. Thanks so much for the beautiful picture of one.
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