Earth Teach Me: Fall-ing in Love Again

American Lady with Blue Mistflowers and Rudbeckia

I am so happy that Fall is here. I'm not talking about pumpkin spice or sweater weather. I love fall because this is when the wildflowers are at their peak and the butterflies arrive in force. The bees and wasps will have been busy all summer, but the butterflies like to wait until the flowers are at their tastiest and most beautiful. It's my favorite time to lead kids on hikes at the Nature Center. We see so much! Spiders, caterpillars, butterflies, stick bugs, mantises. Fall is full of life. I learned to love fall wildflowers when we lived in Florida and I worked at Morningside Nature Center. I got to know the flowers of the Longleaf Pine Sandhill there, which is one of the most beautiful things ever. Click here to read my blog about it: https://earthteachme.blogspot.com/2013/09/morningside.html I started my flower garden at home to attract butterflies when I saw how they loved the wildflowers in the sandhill. The flower show in our garden starts small in the spring with welcome but small sprouts of green and flashes of yellow and pink. But by fall it is a mad burst of purple and gold, tall stems tumbling over each other. I could barely walk the path through the middle of the garden today because it had grown so thick. But the result is a moving carpet of rainbow colors, buzzing, fluttering, and chirping. The birds, rabbits, squirrels and deer love it too.

Katydid

Fall is the time that I get to step back and just admire and enjoy the fruits of my labors. It's my reward for the sweaty work planting, watering and weeding that I do in the spring and summer, though admittedly, nature does most of the work. It's a joy to just step out the front door and be surrounded by such beauty. I take far too many pictures. It makes me happy to see other people pass by the yard and stop for a picture of their own. A runner yesterday waved and said "¡Que Rico!" and blew kisses to the flowers. It makes me feel good to provide a nature sanctuary on a busy corner where campus buses drive by every few minutes and commuters line up at the beginning and end of their day. I love this garden.

On the Bus Route--Goldenrod and Asters Abound

American Lady, Blue Mistflower, and the Commuters

Fall is also hurricane season. It's been a wild week. On Thursday we watched the destruction in Florida as hurricane Helene grew to a category 4 storm.We anxiously waited for it to roar over the top of Athens during the night. I took pictures of the garden on Thursday, fully expecting that it would all be smashed flat by the storm the next day. But Friday morning we woke to light rain and some wind gusts and found that we had come through mercifully unscathed. The storm had taken a more easterly path. But then we saw the terrible damage as it tore through up the eastern half of the state and up to the Carolinas, Tennessee and Kentucky. There was some damage in our town, but nothing like what happened all around us. We feel very lucky--the devastation and loss is shocking. Some of those communities will never be the same again. Our garden was untouched.

The Day Before the Storm

Then on Sunday we started getting reports of a toxic chemical fire in Conyers, about 40 miles to the west, and to be prepared to stay inside with windows closed if the chemical cloud started to drift our way. Luckily the fire seems to be under control and the cloud has not made it here yet, though it looks like the toxicity would be diluted by the wind by the time it got here if it did. But 17,000 people were told to evacuate, many to Athens. Crazy. What's next? An asteroid? Volcano?

Not smelling any chlorine because the toxic cloud was far away, I took a walk around Lake Herrick, where I used to walk all the time and in January had started writing about for an exercise in exploring place. I've been avoiding going there--it just makes me sad since the nursing student was murdered there in February (see previous blogs). I hadn't been there since June. I decided to go see if I could find any of the birds that had been reported after the hurricane (I didn't). It was nice to walk the trails again, but it still felt sad. This summer the university installed numerous emergency call boxes throughout the woods as a safety measure. I understand why they put them in, but for me, seeing the bright red light in the woods just reminds me that it is a sad place. I'm just not sure I can write about my connection to the place any more. I get distracted by the misery. So I am letting that "Journey in Place" project go. I'll certainly go back to Lake Herrick over and over again. But reflecting on my feelings there is too sad, and I feel like having the project hanging over me has been a burden that kept me from being able to write at all. I've been stuck. But walking home from Lake Herrick, I saw my garden up ahead in the distance, all full of movement and life, and I felt relief, and the urge to write about it. Just the nudge I needed. Thank you, garden, for giving me joy, beauty, and peace.