Relaxing into fall.

Come November

“November comes

and November goes,

with the last red berries,

and the first white snows.

With night coming early,

and dawn coming late,

and ice in the bucket,

and frost by the gate.

The fires burn,

and the kettles sing,

and earth sinks to rest,

until next spring.”

                                     Elizabeth Coatsworth

Well, fall is finally upon us here in Alabama. We've had a few nights in the 30's and a few days in the 50's and now it's time to turn back the clocks. The time change is always bittersweet to me. Here on the eastern edge of the central time zone, we have darkness coming at about four-thirty in the afternoon and dawn not until almost eight. It makes for a long, dark night. With the exception of the hickory, the trees outside my window are still green. It takes a lot to convince them that winter is on the way.

Although I do not like cold weather, I hope we have an honest winter this year. The land and the plants need it. I'd like to see the fire ants frozen out and the fleas, too. I have no sympathy whatsoever for them or their friends, the roaches. We have a plenitude of all three. There was even a yellow-jacket nest in my front yard this year—such has been the opportunity afforded by last year's too warm winter.

All week as the realities of Hurricane Sandy's wallop have sunk in, the news-makers have been talking about high water levels and low lying cities. I even heard someone suggest yesterday that we may have to rethink building on beaches that are prone to storm surge. You think? Several times since I have lived in Alabama the barrier islands along our gulf coast have been rearranged by storms, Katrina being only one of many. Instead of getting a clue, people go right back out there and build giant houses on stilts. I can almost hear the sea gods chuckling, “How long shall we allow this little jewel to stand?”

According to one Columbia University scientist, the water level in the Atlantic has already risen a foot, and we're due to have another couple of feet rise in this century. That's a lot of water. Maybe it's time to consider change.

Thank God, November is the final month of hurricane season—I wonder if anyone has told Mother Nature that.

                                                  In the spirit,

                                                    Jane