Yesterday’s dry hurricane winds swept all the
bright leaves off our autumnal trees. In one half round of the clock’s
hands, the landscape shifted from yellow-red tree décor to bare gray sticks.
The morning had dawned on our blue spruce “Bruce”,
adorned in pinecone finery. He was standing his usual tall guard over our
shared domain. By afternoon, Bruce lay resting across the roof he had
watched. The sun set on a far different scene. Bruce had become a pile of
stumps, logs and branches splayed across the front yard. The trails
between the front gardens, previously sporting redwood mulch, were naked dirt
tracks now.
In an hour, the winds forced us to bring in all the
lawn chairs and potted petunias, even the wreath woven with summer
flowers. It blew the last petals off the roses. It collapsed
the tunnel carefully crafted in the brushpile by our industrious gardening
partner, Bugs the bunny. It blew away the leaves from the cozy nest
he built by the lettuce bed. It whooshed the leaves into a deep pile over
Bugs' sunny rose garden nap spot. It
filled his water bowl with dust.
His new bunny girlfriend we brought him two weeks
ago hopped around in alarm. She darted
in and out of their hole. She sat up on
the log and sniffed. The high wind blew
her pink ears like sails, so she kept them pressed to her white back.
A fox with a half-full belly and a curse on his
head lives in a leafless thicket nearby. One thing we’re glad of.
The winds didn’t harm the pure white chrysanthemums blooming over the week-old
grave of Bugs.
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10:07:24 AM 
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