The morning sky was blue from rim to rim, and maple leaves fell like golden snow in dreamlike slowness. The brightness was a quiet, slow bell, tolling out autumn.
Nelia Gardner White in
"The Bewitched Spinster" from
The Merry Month of May
In early October I often envy those who live in New England for their early show of fall colors, but come November I am always grateful for Tennessee's lingering loveliness.
The hills around our house are filled with reds and oranges this week, but it is the golden leaves of the large maple tree by RH's bedroom that won my heart when I saw the listing photo of the house.
And the beauty of this small wild maple tree outside my kitchen door has been a bittersweet joy this week.
It is growing far too close to the house for future problems and can't be dug and moved because it's growing through the chain-link fence.
RH says it must be cut down.
I say cut a hole in the fence, dig the tree out and replant it, and then repair the fence.
Our vote is split 50/50 and one of us is going to lose.
This time it's going to be me.
