There are lots of trees on the property, but this one is known as “My Tree”. It is rooted by the wall which marks the furthest demarcation of my land.
We believe Peanut the fox has her burrow behind the wall, nearby.
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We buried Lucy a little further up the hill beneath these trees, so now when I go to talk to my tree I talk to Lucy as well. Not that I believe she is there.
Wrapping her small body and carrying her up the hill, there was no sense that her spirit still hovered. It’s the first time I have ever buried a pet, so I cannot make comparisons.
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What I do know is that we comfort ourselves in whatever way we can.
After my tortie Annie died I went out to the garden and saw an orange butterfly. I had never seen one there before and never did after. It was the colour of Annie’s coat.
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The morning after Lucy died, I was washing dishes and gazing sadly out the window. Tears came again.
Then suddenly Grisabel’s wind chime sounded two short notes. There was no wind to disturb it. The other chimes were silent and nothing else moved.
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early morning light
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“Lucy”, I thought.
After Lucy went blind, her world shrank. Animals adjust so well as did she, but living in a house with so many others made it much more difficult. I had wondered about her quality of life.
When recently we found that she enjoyed spending her days on the living room sofa, we made a routine of transporting her back and forth.
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Lucy had never liked being picked up but as we carried her that short distance to and fro, she almost seemed to enjoy it.
We sang to her, about “flying through the air with the greatest of ease.”
The stupid song of course now stuck in my mind to torment me.
Lucy’s world had shrunk but she was content, so we cannot say that she had no quality of life, that her passing was a happy release for her.
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When our beloved companions die, we must accept it as part of the contract we enter into when they come to us.
There is never an easy way of saying goodbye, but my last memory of Lucy before she died was her struggling to get away when I tried to comfort her.
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It wasn’t the first time I found a cat dead. I went one long ago morning, to the “foster suite” where Abe always met me at the glass door. He wasn’t there. Looking up, I saw him lying on a shelf and I knew he was dead.
Abe had a heart condition. I loved that beautiful long-haired grey cat that, but had not known him long when he died.
Lucy had been with me for 12 years, always by my side. Finding her lifeless on the floor, I sensed that her spirit had gone without lingering. As if it had an urgent appointment elsewhere.
This sounds ridiculous, I am well aware, but what do we really know? The older I get, the more I am guided by what I feel.
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Morning mist has become the norm for us. It lingers in our small valley.
Drive up the hill toward Greenwich and suddenly the sky is totally clear.
Perhaps when the weather becomes more seasonally appropriate, we’ll enjoy another sunrise.
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These past few days have been warm enough to kick on the air conditioner.
Yet it is still entirely possible we could get a snowstorm this month.
Prepare for anything these days!
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Fall this year is copper-coloured.
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Brown ?
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In Greenwich we found a splash of red and noticed four turkey-vultures circling.
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Rather than felling trees for power lines, they just cut away branches which gives the trees unusual shapes.
To me these always seem like wounds.
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Many trees have dropped leaves already and some are in the process.
These partly-naked limbs strike me as quite beautiful, especially in this unusual almost metallic colour.
Perhaps I’ll see it all differently when I get the new lenses for my glasses.
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Sumac turns very red!
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We went to see geese at the locks
and found them preening lazily.
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All was very still…
but then a flock approached,
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acknowledged by a single honk
as they passed overhead.
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Pretty hydrangeas deserved a photgraph
Such works of art
It seems a crime that so much beauty goes each day unseen.
Even if this autumn does not (yet) show such striking colours as last year, it is still beautiful. And your photos of the geese at the locks (and the reflections in the water) are beautiful, as are the hydrangeas.
I have experienced our spaniels “presence” in our home a few times after they passed away … maybe my imagination? No matter, it brought some kind of comfort.
Be happy to be guided by what you feel. It will make sense to you, and ease your pain.
Best wishes, Pete.
It’s nice to have so much beauty to balance the sadness!