The last several days have seen continuous 45 mph winds out here on the plains. A sure sign that the cooler weather of fall is on the way. In fact, the first frost might well happen this weekend. Which means an end to all the daily fresh melons and vegetables from the garden until next year. Just time to clean up and prepare for next spring and then batten down for the cold and snow of winter.
I love the fall weather once it gets here. There is that sense of drawing back into one's self for the coming days of winter, the slowing down of the pace of life. There is nothing that says job well done like the feeling of brisk air in the morning and the sound of geese circling the harvested corn fields.
The sound of geese as they migrate also reminds me of my grandfather. When he found out that he had inoperable metastatic cancer, he lived on with his steel will to see one more cycle of planting and growing. And when the fall and harvest came, he decided it was time and died. I remember slipping away from work, bundling the son in his infant carrier, and driving the 30 miles over to his farm to just to sit with him in his final weeks. And I remember the sound of the honking geese circling as I would leave to head back home.
That of course brings to mind how lucky I was growing up. I not only knew all my grandparents, but some of my great-grandparents. A consequence of being the oldest child of the oldest child on both sides of my family. In fact with the exception of L's grandfather, we had a complete set of grandparents on both sides when we were dating. So we both grew up with the presence of grandparents in our lives. It makes me sad to think of all the people who aren't so lucky.
Enough meandering, time to get back to work.