Autumn qualities mix with the politics of our Day. |
If he shoots down the Route 56 By-Pass, in the fall, heading toward Indiana County, the view from the car will be mesmerizing. It's up, soon. We will take friends, bobbing up in the backseat, time-honored conversations glittering with the countryside. The degree of heat will drop, as we find ourselves raking dead leaves into huge piles and, afterwards, out of the back shed, I will push a forty-year old red wheelbarrow, to dump them down into the woodlands. At summer's end, the measure of time stops and the porch is still cautious where bumblebees hover near the hanging plants. It is as if a celebration were over,and the chocolate cake from my September birthday party are sighs left behind, knowing the weather that appeared so perfect in those humid months will change now. It will be a day to enjoy. When colors burst on the scene, from high in the trees like hills. Westmoreland County, shapely landscape that marks my hometown in the earth. Hill vision, a look-alike for Robin Hood country. Silky flags are being flown year-round, no matter what the season, some of them American flags, delicate in their sign of protection, some of them butterflies, flapping free and at ease, like dead leaves in the distance gayly surrounding them in the chilly wind. |