Autumn, The Best Season

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November 1, 2023 by NEWSTORY - Views: 54

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Autumn, The Best Season

Sassafrass Tree
Sourwood Tree

As an old country girl, I love this time of the year.  The foxtail grass dewy in the mornings, the maples changing to yellow, peach, and red, the dogwoods turning to a regal deep mauve, the sassafras’ mittens and palms taking to gold-tinged orange, the sourwood racemes drooping over maroon and peachy understory branches along the roadsides, and the majestic tulip poplars glowing lemon to amber are among my loves as summer turns to fall.  This year was no different, and I traveled north to extend the possible views of October.  

Three trips into NC this October haven’t disappointed me, but my favorite path north is to Ceasars Head and Cedar Mountain which we did the last week of October this year.  The tunnels of trees covering the road’s curves drape and shed onto this mountain path as the sun rays dapple each leaf’s color from glow to shadow overhead.  Creeping up and sliding back down the mountain kept us in awe for a wonderous day’s visit.  

Old Barn
Yellow Spider

Fall is also for stomping through the wooded leafy dirt roads, found cemeteries, and abandoned barns.  But it’s also a time that appeals to eight legged creatures as well.  On a bright, cool Sunday afternoon in this month of leaves detaching from their branches, I joined friends tromping through the brown, crunchy piles in an old family cemetery.  No deer, turkey, racoon, or possum stepped up to join us, but a nice sized golden spider did.  What a beautiful web she had crafted!  I studied her for a while without startling her to the edge of her glassy threads.  I’m sure she was watching for my destructive ways, but leaving her to her business, I took off to visit a nice rock wall and old barn site nearby.  

There the leaves were thicker and the rocks piled high, and I took time standing still recording the human built structures with my phone camera, and I guess I acquired a hanger on.  That particular tag-a-long, unbeknown to me, moved up my pants leg, and when I sat back down in the truck, he evidently was caught in the bend of my knee.  I totally understand that his natural response was to open his mouth and latch on to a piece of meat trying to protect himself.  Ah, but the bite I didn’t feel nor did I see him ever.  It was the next afternoon that I noticed a small pain behind the knee, and by the following morning, the spot was the size of a flaming red tennis ball.

Needless to say, the doctor could see two bites, put me on 2000 mg of antibiotic per day, and provided cream to cover the site.  I feel sure that the large, yellow lady had nothing to do with the attack.  

Historically yours,
Moonville Mae■


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