Granny's Rambles: The Changing of the Seasons

Do you know what I like about Utah? I mean besides the fact that it's home. I like the seasons. We have four of them most years, and I like them best when they are changing.

Most people say we have one season: construction. Some say we have two seasons: winter and summer. I'll grant that you have to watch closely or you might miss the four hours of spring we have now and then, but they are glorious when they are here!

My favorite of all is fall. There is something about the winding down of summer, getting ready for the winter indoors, but still having generally warm days that I like. The days are pleasant, and the nights are perfect sleeping temperatures.

There are specific chores that come with each season. In the fall the garden goes out, and the garlic goes in. The canning and drying are done, and the shelves under the stairs are full of tomato stuff and jam. It gives one a warm, nesting kind of feeling.

We have some beautiful Autumn Burst Maples on both sides of our corner that turn scarlet before they fade and fall. We don't even have to rake those, because the neighbor wants them for his garden. He rakes 'em, bags 'em, and takes 'em. It works well for us. We have the shade in the summer, the beauty in the fall, and none of the work.

Then we have the chestnut tree. I love the chestnut tree. It's huge and shades the whole west side of the house, because it nearly leans on the west side of the house. Sure, it has all those blooms that fall all over the lawn in the spring, but they smell sweet as honeysuckle. When the spring storms come after that, they blow down millions of little green dingle balls, but they are soft and easy to rake or mow up. The dingle balls that stay in the tree grow. It's amazing how many are in the tree after a zallion of them blew out in the spring, but there you are.

Poor Hubby hates the seasons. He hates winter because it snows, he hates spring because of all the garden stuff, he hates the summer because he has to water and mow, and he hates the chestnut tree most off all. He says it doesn't even have the courtesy to loose all its stinking balls at the same time to get it over with. I don't want him to hate the tree, and I know raking makes his titanium knees ache like crazy, so for the last few years, I have done, or at least helped do, the ball raking. I don't mind it a bit.

Sometimes one finds treasures in the grass, like this little cluster of tiny toad stools. Come on, click on the picture so you can see them really close. They're awesome, aren't they?

See, if you just kind of amble along, slow but steady, it doesn't take long to have the grass looking good enough to please even particular Hubby.

See that tree next to the house? That bug sucker that is still about half full of balls? Look close and you will see the hammock under it too. Hey! Who's the kid? That was my little helper from one house down. He brought his daddy's shovel over and helped scoop all the raked balls into the can. He was a good worker, through the fun, and not so fun parts with never a complaint. I may hire him again. Things are looking good now, but I know it won't last.

Hubby got home in time to help scoop too. He'd been to Grandson's football game. He was very happy to see that we were nearly done - mission accomplished!

Later that night, I listened to the wind blow and the rain fall. Did I tell you I love storms? I do. I like weather that does something. Yup. It rained all right.