It’s finally here. It’s been right at a year, but just like noon on a clock, it’s here. Fall, or to some Autumn.
Personally, I call it Fall but I understand those who want to call it Autumn. Autumn disguises the fact that the world is about to get cold, dark, and dreary.
As I look out my window today the change to fall colors is unmistakable. Never before, well, not since last year, has the landscape been more vibrant shades of brown, (construction language) brown, tan, baby (construction language) tan, black and more shades of brown.
The greens are gone. No more Kelly, Emerald, lime; just forest green turning into various shades of gray/black, comparable to the color of odd decomposing animal scat. Hey, you notice things living in the mountains.
Elaine is an Autumn person. She loves browns, mix in a little terracotta and she’s good for the season. She is currently working on a sweater for herself that is a shade of forest green that under most light is almost black. Please don’t share the scat analogy with Elaine. She truly likes colors so dark they look black.
As I look out the window, I see the wind is blowing. It has been blowing since that equinox thing and it doesn’t appear it is going to stop. I built a shed on the property in the fall of 2005. Our son had just passed away and I needed a task to help me move on.
I built the shed around materials that I had hoarded from years of construction projects. I installed a very luxurious 3’ x 3’ glass block window facing south. Some would say it looked ridiculous in a shed covered with live edge pine siding.
Last week, Elaine was gazing out of the window looking for a brown she could fall in love with; and then invites me to come to the window to show me a specific brown twig that I will never find because all browns look brown.
This time was different. This time, Elaine said, “Hey, the glass block window is gone.” After a second of disbelief, I discovered Elaine was right, the glass block window was gone. Sixteen years, sixteen years that window was looking majestic in the south-facing wall of my shed. Now, the first windstorm of Autumn 2021, and my window is gone.
Turns out it wasn’t totally gone. Just misplaced, the wind hid the window on top of one of the bikes (Ivy’s specifically) we had stored in the shed. Of course, this happens in the FALL/Autumn that I am waiting for surgery and cannot reinstall the window (still luxurious and unbroken) myself. Here come the twins to the rescue, “Don’t worry Monner, we can put the window back in.” I can’t decide if the moisture on my cheek is from happiness or gratitude.
With my pending surgery, I had to put my construction career on hold for a while. I won’t be able to share cute, current stories about the building you walk in and out of every day. I won’t be using ‘construction language” but I plan on using “ranch language” ( Can you imagine the language a person can use when their glass block window is gone?) Maybe I’ll use some “boredom language” or “fly-swatting language”. Fly-swatting is another fall event in the mountains made even more fun, yelling, “Die, (fly-swatting language)” or “I got that (fly-swatting language)”.
With the construction career on hold, I will have plenty of time to fill orders for the store. Stop reading this stuff and go to the Your Daily Fiber website and order something. We have plenty of spring/summer colors.
If your window should blow out this FALL/Autumn, call me, I’ll send the twins.
Our crazy lives!