The Last of the Color

When these leaves are gone, that green grass is what helps get me through winter.
That, and the evergreens I've planted here and there.
This is the Bloodgood Japanese Maple I planted the day Dad died.

Why so quiet, you ask? Because we snuck off to Texas for a 12-day jaunt to see Corpus Christi, visit family in Arlington and surrounds, and see how many pounds Nan could gain eating three meals out every day. The verdict: A good number of pounds, or a bad number, that is ...

Visiting Arlington is now such a study in contrasts with our current life. There, we stay at Mason's ex's house and can get to the hardware store in 2 minutes. Here on Flat Top, it takes 50 minutes. To Mason's favorite burger joint, 1.5 minutes. Here? Trick question. All of Mason's favorite burger joints are in Texas.

All of that convenience -- and the thousands of restaurants within a 10 minute drive in Arlington -- create a parallel universe to Flat Top. So we go there, get our fill, appreciate it all, then retreat to the cabin and fall back in love with our little home in the woods. I can't tell you how much I look forward to winter, when I will no longer be working and we won't leave the mountain six days a week and create satisfying meals out of whatever is left on Days 5 and 6. Of course, I prefer that it be spring or summer, when it's warm, but I'm trying not to be too greedy.

This Seiryu Japanese Maple didn't give me much color last year,
 but this year? I'm happy.

When we returned to our little cabin in the woods last week, we found a forest full of leaves covering the ground and just a speck of fall color left. So far I've gotten the leaves off the grass, but there's a whole lot of raking and shredding in our near future. And soon, that pile of firewood you see in the background of that bottom photo will be keeping us warm day and night.  It's good to be home.