Fall Samhain Moon
Flying from the heat of southern Georgia to the rainy chill of the northern exurbs of the Twin Cities gives a sense of the size of this country and its diversity. Being in Georgia, in so many ways, felt like being in a different country. It was hot. Peaches and pecans graced billboards and grocery store shelves. The Walking Dead seemed only a hedge away off Highway 75. The military and African-Americans were visible in numbers. Southern cooking was not a cookbook, but a way of life. The stars and bars flew on pick-up trucks, rusted or not, with dog or not. And there was, lingering there in the heated air, a faint rebel yell, a sign the Civil War (an oxymoron I just realized) was not over.
The rain and news of frost gladden my heart as do the russet and gold in our woods, the leaf pocked yard. The fallow time has begun and this gardener, for one, is glad. It was a wonderful, but busy growing season.
Good to be home.
