I wish I could invite you to gaze out with me now at this yard before me. Thoughtful hands, decades before my own had been at work here. For the first fall I realize the distinct autumn grandeur of vines. My goodness. The Virginia creepers, and the grapes and yes, the poison ivy all light up the trees with ropes of red, shawls of ochre. Straight ahead there is a juniper tree that is strictly green. I see the thick poison ivy vine I’d cut in the spring still hanging where it had wanted to reach the ground. Removing poison ivy is good. Or is it? I feel like I’d needlessly unplugged a string of Christmas tree lights.
There’s a red maple off to the right that is beginning to turn, wildly. The two sugar maples to the left seem to move more consistently from green to yellow. The big Northern Red Oak and Southern red oak that form a crest of green. They take their time. Earlier in the year, I’d thought about taking certain trees down in order to enhance a view, but it is hard to imagine imposing one’s will on this Cezanne-like panorama. It takes time to get to know a place, doesn’t it?
The little one has
a friend coming over today. This young
lady is a year older than her. She
drives. Still Chinese in their habits neither
of my girls have bothered to get a license yet.
I’m in no rush to see them driving, I’ll confess. A right-of-passage that was always irrelevant
in China. I don’t suppose it will be
more than five years or so before no one will drive much of anywhere. You’ll need to go out to a driving track to
drive-your-own-car. Automated vehicles
will take us about swiftly, safely and we’ll wonder how we ever put up with
such random danger in our daily lives. But
for today, they may go out for a ride.
And that is fine. I think. And I will worry.