|
Each morning, I’m greeted by the crazy red leaves of our Japanese Maple. With most of the other trees now bare, it’s a bold pop of color that catches my eye the moment I step outside. The leaves have started to drop, but that deep red still feels like a celebration of fall’s last hurrah, a sight that welcomes me home at the end of each day. We’ve spent a fair share of time clearing leaves from our trails, yard, and driveway, but no matter how many times we rake, within a week there’s a new blanket covering everything again. I don’t really mind. Walking through them is part of the joy of the season. There’s something grounding about that sound underfoot, a reminder that nature keeps moving even when we’re ready to pause. We’ve prepped most of the property and are mostly ready for winter. We didn’t get around to planting garlic or finishing the garden beds, but that’s okay. Each year we live here, we get a little closer to our long-term vision. Like any creative project, it takes patience. I often tell clients that it’s good to start with a grand idea, even if it feels out of reach, because that’s where the best ideas begin. Sometimes the version we build one step at a time ends up being even better. This was our second summer here, and the progress shows. The garden thrived, and we’re still enjoying the jalapeños we picked earlier this fall. The deer have now found what’s left, nibbling away at the green leaves before they freeze and disappear under snow. Soon, the garden will rest again. The timelapse I started two months ago is still running, capturing every shift in light and color. I’ll probably keep it going until the first snow, which could be any day now. Next month, I’ll share how our woods look under that first blanket of snow and how this timelapse turns into a short film of seasonal transformation.
|
