A time for letting go

Autumn is my favourite season, when I scurry around putting away food for the winter like a squirrel. I love the cooler air, the smell of dry leaves, the scent of the neighbour's wood stove starting up, the coziness of sweaters. But it's also a bittersweet time, when you let go of a lot of things. It's the time to pull out old pea vines and zucchini plants, oil and put away the tools, wrap up the lawnmower cord, and empty the fountain. We get ready to say goodbye to the sun for the next six or seven months. The sandals are put in the closet, and the lovely catalpa trees are soon to be beheaded.

It's made more poignant, this year, because it's also the time to give my grandkids a last hug and kiss, since they will be off limits once they return to school. We'll have to wait to see what the Covid levels do, but I suspect it may be months before it will be safe to be with them again. I've enjoyed having them over a lot this summer to swim, sending them home with goodies and books. We spent one memorable night in the tent in the backyard, and one day we tried to dig to the centre of the earth in the park sandbox (my grand-daughter was quite expectant that we would hit lava). I went without seeing them in person for four or five months this spring, and now we enter it again, and it's sad. But necessary. If they are going to run the risk of in-class school, they should limit their risk everywhere else. And with my own health not the peachiest, I have to be cautious.

Love you, my little ones! Thank goodness for Skype.