Happy Equinox

5:04 is going to come pretty ding dang early in the morning.  But that's when I need to be awake, alert, and singing in the season. 

It's the Equinox, Babies!  I know, it will still be the Equinox even if I don't sing it in, but I want to make sure that Autumn knows how very, very welcome She is.  Bring on the crisp, cool air.  Bring on the bright blue days.  I miss these days in the Midwest when we can actually feel that first bite of cold air.  Out with the sauna air, in with the breathable air. 

The Autumnal Equinox is also a time to pray for peace.  I always feel so helpless in the face of all the war and unrest in the world, but the Equinox is a time to remember that I can be peace.  We can be joy.

I remember as a child raking mountains of bright colored leaves in Central Illinois, running and jumping into them. Hiding and popping out to "scare" my cooperative neighbors, Dorothy and Pud as they walked by. I remember the smell and the feel of the leaves and being able to see the strong structure of the naked trees. I remember a green corduroy jacket with plaid flannel lining, and slippery bits and earthy smell of carved bits of pumpkin.  Only Autumn joy and, in spite of my attempt to scare my friends, Autumn peace.

It's not quite time here in South Carolina to rake leaves yet.  I don't actually plan to rake them anyway.  I'll just let them be, no doubt to the dismay of my neighbors who all still believe burning them is a good thing to do.  But this Autumn I resolve to not be angry about that.  I will lead by peaceful example. 

And if any of my neighbors are awake at 5:04 a.m.  they may hear me singing Autumn in.
 (what the heck, they already know I'm nuts)

A bright, crisp blue autumn day today. I planted a shade garden which is most of my front yard. The goal is to never mow and have a beautiful, peaceful garden under four huge oaks . Sixteen hostas, four ferns, lots of English and Virginia bluebells, lilies of the valley, coral bells, foam flowers, creeping myrtle, and probably other things I'm blanking on now are now doing their autumn magic in the secrecy of the soil.
I outlined a winding path through the garden with bottles waiting on a trip to the recycling center. I wanted to make sure didn't plant in the path, which I heaped with extra mulch and walked back and forth on to compact. I was amused when a neighbor drove by and shot me the peace sign as I carried empty beer and wine bottles to my front yard. I was even more amused an hour or so later when I remembered that I was wearing a shirt with a big peace sign on it.
Planting a big garden requires a lot of bending, squatting, talking aloud to the Universe, and happiness. I gathered rocks as I dug and carried them to the back yard where a veggie garden to be is surrounded by a French drain to keep it from washing away on it's sloping location. On one trip to transport rocks and stretch my legs I found toadstools growing in a cluster the size of half a basketball. I took them to my compost bin.
The compost bin is an amazing thing. It makes me feel all green and wonderful until I realize that the Earth has been doing this without my help for its whole life. My little attempt must make the Earth smile if not laugh. Still it's a joy to watch it work. Put in chicken poo, vegetable scraps, weeds, leaves, the occassional toadstool. . . . and out comes stuff your garden loves.
I don't at all mind making the Earth laughing with me (as my siblings used to tell me, they weren't laughing AT me, they were laughing WITH me). My best hope is that I'll always laugh along.