Pleasures and Feasts of the Senses

Not quite a poem,  not really a memoir or even a story...maybe some kind of song I'm singing to myself; a song of September, I'm singing to me...
Just as September seems to lie somewhere between real summer and true autumn, this is something in between:

The many pleasures of September; a veritable feast for the senses... Plucking and eating ripe juicy berries; crisp, crunchy apples. Seedy figs and plump grapes. Driving down the road, cornstalks and  scarecrows pop out at you. You imagine the ravens stalk you as you drive, showing up at every stopsign.  Though this illusion is broken, when you stop at the crosswalk for rosy-cheeked kids in fresh denim and plaid - hugging their bright, shiny lunchboxes tight to their chests, as they run for the crayon yellow school bus.

Women walk briskly down the sidewalk again; fully accessorized in brown leather and tweed; their new fall pumps ratta-tap out a flamenco on the sidewalk. Their audience of men in gray suits, eye them; looking dapper themselves, no longer rumpled and hot - their ties windsor-knotted just so; not dangling at half-mast anymore.

The days seem both shorter and slower. Lined up higgledy-piggledy on the shelf, like tired little children, books want to be read in the evening now - preferably while you soak in a warm, foamy bathtub, by the amber glow of scented candlelight; then taken to bed to drift away.

Even music sounds different, as though you're hearing it with different ears - having put away your sharp summer ears that listened too hard, and put on the soft, fuzzy autumn ones instead.
You switch the radio from the jagged rock and jazz of hot weather; summer is over. It's fall now; time to cool down, time for ballads and melodies - time to sing the blues.

In the mornings, the sky is bright-eyed, wide and blue. Golden afternoon light makes you
sleepy and long for a nap. Like a lizard, you want to stretch out on a warm rock, and bask in the sunlight, while a tender little breeze blows over you, and you drift into dragonfly dreams.

There are other primal instincts making themselves known:  one that makes you want to gather acorns and nuts; smooth, green stones and checkered mockingbird feathers - hoard them; squirrel them away - for what, you're not sure...
Another urge, finds you in the drugstore: smelling sweet, gummy rubber erasers, that make you want to buy notebooks and pencils for classes that no longer exist.  You wonder, if there is no school,  who will be your teacher this year?

The days are still warm and balmy; the wind is picking up though. Scattering the brittle yellow  skeleton  leaves that crunch under your feet with every step. Sweeping and raking feels not so much a chore, as a penance. But with every leaf raked up into a hill, you feel lighter. When they're all gone, you feel redeemed; but hungry.

Everything tastes better now. Mornings are for buttery toast, dripping with blackberry preserves and hot, sweet tea with honey - or coffee the dark sienna of rich mahogany. In the evenings, cooking is pleasurable again. Marinated artichoke hearts, olives and mushrooms. Casseroles and cassoulet. Pasta; beans; potatoes. This is the seaon of bread and butter. The soup season begins, too - savory tomato and basil; comforting chicken noodle; thick and creamy split pea soup. Stews filled with a harvest basketful of vegetables. Fired-up chili that sends smoke out your ears.  Put out the fire with a cold beer or, if not so inclined, something starchy and sweet...

Spiced date cookies; cinnamon applesauce. Corn muffins. Biscuits with honey butter.

A little caramel.  A bite of chocolate. A sip of wine.

Every sense seems heightened. The roses and geraniums bloom one last hurrah. They smell spicier now, as though they saved up their scent all summer, waiting for autumn. Their pinks and reds, their hunter green leaves, stand out vivid against the yellowing lawn. The hummingbirds are working harder than ever now. A few parched, red dragonflies reconnoiter; searching for water, they're confused by the mirage of the silver reflecting ball in the garden.

Sunsets show-off now, nearly blinding you; peek through your fingers and see their vivid palettes of cadmium orange, crimson and scarlet red. Evening falls earlier and when the wind dies down, the stars shine bright through the clearing; they look so close in the night sky.  Sitting on the porch, you listen to the crickets. Then a coyote howls, somewhere down the street he gets his answer. The coyotes, the clicking sonar of the bats and barn owls all sound closer now than they are...you shudder and go inside, but leave the porchlight on. Lock the door behind you; as if you could keep all of Nature outside, if she really wanted in. There's the proof in the corner - a spider spinning a cobweb. Grab a broom, a jar. Relocate her outside; but wonder for how long. Though these may seem unpleasant thoughts, there is a pleasurable shiver of goosebumps that comes with wondering at the mysteries of nature and the night - especially when you can consider them from inside a safe, warm, well-lit home.

The nights are longer now; at last the sheets are cool again. Cool enough to cuddle and spoon; skin upon skin slides smoothly again, without sticking.  After he rolls away, you shiver a little; hunt for a blanket at the bottom of the bed. The cat curls up on your feet and purrs.

It's easier now to slip into other worlds; another dimension, when you sleep and dream. About opening doors to rooms you didn't know you had. Dreams of being late to a school that only stands in memories now.  Of people you haven't seen in years; and some you've never met before. You see places you've never been - except in these autumn dreams. Do things you'd never do - or would you?

In the chill of morning, the bed is so cozy and safe; like a little lifeboat. The soft, warm covers are hard to leave behind, to strike out into the unknown sea of the day ahead. When you finally do, the dry, wooden floorboards are cool under your bare feet as you hunt with your toes amongst the dustbunnies for your slippers

It feels good to want a little warmth again.

For more pleasures, visit Mixed Media Memoirs, and for more Feasts of the Senses, see Poetry Thursday.

(A collage from my journal, made to accompany this writing. For those of you interested in such things, the image of the woman in the center, is my own drawing done on a sheet of photocopied - public domain - music, that I cut out and added to the magazine and scrapbook paper cut-outs. And blended some coloration in here and there with watercolor pens and pencils.  I think I liked the image better before I wrote on the piece of music at the bottom - but then it wouldn't be a mixed media memoir, if I didn't write on it, would it?  Even though I'm planning on printing out the words written here and pasting them into the opposite page in the journal; hmmm...I've got to think about that some more. Let me know what you think...

I enjoyed doing this so much, I may end up doing something like this for each month in my journal, to remind me of the variety of little pleasures each day holds in every season. Because, sometimes, I forget.)

Comments

[Melba]

Beautiful! The images you created with your words are so strong and true. I love this piece of your art. I think it is a wonderful idea to have this in your art journal on the opposite page of these words. (sometimes if I write a blog post that I like I print my words out and just paste them in my journal) What an excellent idea to do this every month. I have a "movement" journal I only write in once at the beginning of the month to check in with myself.
So glad you decided to share :)

[Kai]

Aloha tinker, feel free to use anything from my blog, but.. IF I ever meet you, you're buying the first coffee and some yummie food from this post :P

Peace n hugs, Kai.

[miss*R]

oh my ! this is absolutely beautiful - both the writing & the collage! I am going to go and savour it slowly once more.
I like the idea of an end of the month collage/writing too!
I wish I could collage like this! it is stunning -

[tinker]

Thanks, Melba - you and your journaling/mixed media memoirs are an inspiration, as always.

Kai - You're something of an inspiration yourself. Thanks - I can't wait to try your 'ingredients' idea out! (and of course, the coffee's on me!)

Thank you, Miss Robyn - I love your artwork, too!

[Sheila]

Hi..I was sent here by miss*robyn, and it was worth the trip!
Your words paint a thousand pictures in my mind, all of them comforting and reassuring,this is the world as it should be.I am inspired to start a journal, to record impressions and hopes and dreams.Things don't remain the same, we must capture and save the moment.To quote John Dryden..'tomorrow do thy worst, for I have lived today'.Thank you..great post.

[Lisa(oceandreamer)]

You constantly amaze me with your ability to color with words. A moment in time it's as though I am "reading" a painting. The strokes carefully thought out that sweep across the canvas in a soft edged phrase. The mixture of colorful words is a descriptive melding of hues. A visual feast for the season!
XOXO

[Gemma]

Once again your words and art have sent my heart soaring. This is really one of my all time favorite posts... not quite a poem/not quite a memoir...excellent!

[tinker]

Sheila, I agree with you about the need to capture the moment and like that quote. Thanks for the kind comment and for stopping by - come by anytime, the door's always open!

Lisa (OceanDreamer), You're so very sweet! I'm blushing. You know I love YOUR writing! xo

Gemma - I'm so glad you liked this one; I was actually a little nervous about putting it out here, because I really invested a lot of time and emotion in it. I feel kinda shy & awkward when I post stuff from my journals (I thought I got over that during the Artist's Way, but apparently it's one of those things I'll have to get over - over and over again! lol).
Thanks for making me feel not so awkward with all your sweet, kind comments!

[Lisa]

I like the words at the bottom and I actually gasped when I saw this piece. It's stunning; truly stunning.

[Tammy]

The artwork is stunning and is so me! All the things I love Plus the body I've always wanted. LOL

Your writing was flipping AMAZING because you captured images only in our minds like the way sheets feel different. You have taken me on a cosy, warm journey. I'd give almost anything to write like you! BIG HUGS!

[tinker]

Thanks, Lisa and Tammy! These comments have made my day - I'll be on cloud 9 today. (and actually, that's the body I always wanted, too, lol - hurray for artistic license, :)

[Paris Parfait]

Beautiful, Terri! A wonderful ode to the fabulous month of September. Very poetic and evocative of the myriad joys of the month. And your collage is fantastic! xo

[Ray]

As ever, a delightful piece.
Words flow from you Tinker, and light up the world. It is high time you were published!!!

[tinker]

Oh, thank you Tara! I'm so glad you stopped by! xox

Ray! thank you - you've made me turn all red...that is so sweet of you to say! ((hugs))
Same back at you, btw!

[Connie]

I thought I was in a wonderland while I was reading. You have a way with words. Just lovely.

Take care,
Connie

[Jerri]

This is beyond fabulous, Tinker. Both words and collage are masterpieces.

Thank you for your generous comments on my blog today. I'm serious (as a bad hair day) when I tell you those words mean SO much to me, coming from you.