Autumnus

Last week our friends came to visit as they took their son to college. The next day, in the early morning light, we sat under the back porch and watched the birds feast on my dying sunflowers. In late August my garden gasps after weeks of heat, little shade, and no rain. Very little is left growing at this time of year - our herb bed, a few pepper plants, and some sweet potatoes.

This is when the sunflowers move from green to brown to grey, their bodies finally giving way after many months of ripe yellow moons. During their green months, hummingbirds, dragonflies, bees, and birds feast on these wonderful flowers. Now, it's the birds who eat the centers who have gone to seed. I collect some of the seeds for next season. Most grow on their own accord.

I say goodbye to the sunflowers and herald the tiniest hints of fall - the slightly shorter days, a hint of cooler air after a week of fierce heat, and this morning, the dappled glory of rain. I welcome fall as I let go of my yellow friends.

Autumnus

Come to my garden in late August, when the
bright oven days have baked the earth brown.
Come and feel the rows of waning sunflowers,
the dried husks of their former selves. Come
and see where each flower once bloomed but
now holds dozens of tiny seeds. Come, see
how they await the dawn arrival of the birds,
the yellow bellied finches who come in flocks,
beaks tipping into the spiky thistles for the new
harvest. Watch the birds dart and feast until
the cat sidles onto the porch and they flee into
the neighboring trees. Wonder how even in her dying
the sunflower opens her mouth to share her yellow
cheer. In the spring, new plants will sprout where
the birds have spilled their morning meal. You'll await
their tiny, unfurling suns as you remember their mothers
and grandmothers, as you wait for the return of the birds,
as you wonder about what dies and what's born anew
each year in you.

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