It only seems appropriate that, like The Great Pumpkin, Lord Wellbourne should rise up from the pumpkin patch on Halloween and greet all the good children of the blogosphere with warm wishes for a good harvest.
I have been somewhat remiss with posts of late. In my defense I can only say that sitting in my studio and typing away on the beauties of a Maine Autumn is no where near as pleasant as being out in it. But, as fate would have it, today's early morning snowfall accompanied by 30 mph arctic winds has made the studio a preferable place to be. I will not begrudge the Snow Queen her right to visit us a tad early since it has been a spectacular foliage season and is still in play. Many of you, on the other hand, have been very busy and I look forward to catching up on my reading of you.
I do rather wonder about the obsession some people have with raking. There is this manic urge to gather up and discard the leaves almost as quickly as they fall. Even more baffling is the rapid introduction--post leaf removal--of fertilizer to the nearly dormant grass. Perhaps the study of botany has changed since the dark ages when I was in high school, but I was given the understanding that the fallen leaves were the trees' and surrounding underpinning's fertilizer. Trees grow leaves, leaves fall to ground, leaves decay thus enriching the soil with nutrients so the trees can grow more leaves. Repeat. I do not rake. I like walking through them. My cats enjoy hunting everything from field mice to water buffalo in the leaf dunes. I like the sound they make beneath my feet and the way they rustle in the wind. The root systems and the grass enjoy their winter fodder. It's all good. I don't live on a golf course; I prefer Nature to have her way the old fashioned way. I may appear lazy to the passer-by but I never have to reseed or fertilize my lawns. Green is good. No chemicals filtering down into the brook and the grass is like a lush carpet throughout the summer.
I've also become the mad 'bulber'. I have planted hundreds of bulbs haphazardly and at random. I did them correctly but purposely mixed them together so I won't know what I've done until late Spring and early Summer. Kinda like Van Gogh painting while wearing a blindfold. Fernbrook Court should be be a riot of colour even if only half of the bulbs produce.
In the meantime I am preparing and packaging my winter care packages for my feathered friends; seeds and suet al fresco. This is going to be the happening place for the avian elite. I have created a den out of all the tree branches that have fallen for my newly ensconced red fox who took up residency about a month ago. I have taken to calling him Todders (thanks, June) and he had been sleeping on or under the canopied glider swing on the side lawn. Since that will soon be coming indoors I didn't want him to think he wasn't welcome. It's a secure, snug little den replete with weatherproof cushions and wool blankets. My hope is that he'll bring a vixen home to meet me and they'll settle in and down together. I know, hopeless romantic.
So, my Dear Gentle Readers, Happy Halloween and a Bountiful Harvest of all Earth's blessings to you!