Fall at the Fen
I walk as if I have somewhere to be. Plunge headlong down the path brushing aside branches & leaves and come to a sudden halt as two birds strafe my head.
Last minute shenanigans? Protecting an empty nest out of habit? Makes me laugh out loud and begin to listen to the cacophony around me. It’s noisy out here! But I don’t slow down because I am my mother’s daughter & mosey isn’t in our playlist.
Out from under the trees the vegetation is even more out of control. Cattails taller than I am sway in the breeze. Purple and white flowers and red berries pop in the midst of rust and tan and ochre. And I am fiercely happy.
Tell me again why I don’t come out here every weekend?
P.S. I saw this sign on one of the benches & sent a message to a Facebook friend who lives in NC - who I have never actually met - just on the off chance that she knew Marty (they have the same last name). He was her nephew!