October 2008

Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.
--George Eliot, English novelist, 1819–1880

The birds do seem to find autumn delicious, up on the hill. For days they’ve been feasting on the lozenge-shaped red fruit that cover the tea viburnums (Viburnum setigerum) along the fence at the top of the property, as well as the metallic purple beautyberries (Callicarpa dichotoma) by the front gate. They’ve already exhausted the supply of bright blue berries clustered all over D’s ‘Autumn Jazz’ and ‘Blue Muffin’ viburnums (sp: dentatum) down near the wall. A rainbow banquet for them, as they prepare for the long, dark months ahead.

But we’re happy to share the berries; after all, we’re doing our feasting on the gorgeous colors of the viburnums’ foliage, not on their tart, mushy fruit. The crimsons and golds, the tangerine-oranges and coppery-browns that the leaves wear are much more palatable than the berries. Earlier in the season, we planted a Persian Witchhazel (Parrotia persica) to draw attention away from the barn, and true to form, it is like a stationary roman candle, with the whole color spectrum represented on one tree. Barn? What barn?

In a few weeks, we’re headed to the wine country on a long-anticipated West Coast vacation. In talking with the owner of the cottage we’re renting along the Russian River, she mentioned that we’d be there for the “coloring of the vines.” We’re not serious wine drinkers, and have never been to Napa or Sonoma before, so I had to ask what she meant. “Oh, just that the grape vines will be full of fall colors,” she replied. I’d never thought about it before, but certainly our vines, such as Virginia Creeper and Boston Ivy, and even some clematis, put on a late-season show with colorful leaves. I guess it shouldn’t be surprising that grape vines do the same thing.

Since we’re not tied to the academic calendar, we tend to plan our vacations for autumn, after kids are back to school and prices have fallen from their peak-season highs. While it tends to be quieter and less expensive, we do regret missing two weeks of some of western Pennsylvania’s finest weather. Plus, Rosslyn Farms and the surrounding hills (or at least those that have escaped the incessant bulldozers) are at their loveliest this month. In the days leading up to our departure, we struggle with the idea that we should close up the garden and put away the outdoor furniture when the days are still so sunny and warm. But on those years where we’ve left the gardening chores go till after vacation, we’ve been rewarded with cold rain and biting winds upon our return. Better to lug lounge chairs, up-end spent tomato plants, and scrub terra cotta pots under a shining October sun, than in the depressing drizzle of a cold November afternoon.

So, we’ll enjoy these delicious autumn days in Rosslyn Farms, then—like Eliot’s birds—fly away and enjoy them all over again in California. We’ll revel in the colorful landscape below us as the plane climbs up into the sky on its way westward; in two weeks’ time, we’ll marvel that the hills we see as we make our descent back into Pittsburgh have already become so barren and brown—like a magician’s trick. Still, regardless of the lack of colorful foliage to greet us upon our homecoming, at the end it’s always good to return to roost in our nest, up on the hill.