“There is the moment, and all the heartaches and sorrows of your life suddenly diminish and only the fine brave things stand out. You breathe sharp clean air; your eyes lift to the eternal wideness of the sky. Anybody has moments like this to store up, but some people are too busy adding up their frustrations to appreciate them. And yet all we need is an awareness of the beauty in life to make us richly content.”

— Gladys Taber, author of Stillmeadow Daybook, 1955

Along with the season, the landscape in the Prairie changes. Beyond the lake dam the field is a cover of white like a blanket. Some call it a southern snow, but we know it as a cotton field. It’s not unusual to see cars pull over and a family tumbling out for photographs. No doubt the picture will be sent to others or find itself on a Christmas card.

There is row after row of round hay bales in other fields. Sooner or later, they will be gathered up on large flatbed trailers and toted to their destination. On occasion a bale will be left behind and the side will be painted orange then decorated with black eyes, nose and the mouth of a jack-o-lantern. It can’t help but bring a smile to passersby.    

Chimney smoke has not quite started, but brush piles are being burned on less windy days. It’s another familiar sight and smell of autumn. I’ve been gathering small limbs and sticks in hopes of a campfire of sorts on a cool evening beside the picnic table. On a clear night, you can stargaze and see the brightness of the waxing moon. Some evenings deer will mosey out of the woods and graze. There could be other eyes in the darkness: possums, raccoons, armadillos, even spider eyes. Sam taught me about spider eyes. Shining a flashlight across the grass will reflect the spiders’ eyes like a bright green emerald. You’d never know they were there without the flashlight.

One might also hear the hoot of an owl in the darkness. Rarely have I actually seen one. Only a quick flight from one tree to another but not a good look.

We put in our order for propane gas getting ready for the colder temperatures. The big propane truck pulls into the drive to fill up the tank, another sure sign and sound of autumn. As the big truck backs into the drive the familiar “beep beep beep” sounds, and I holler, “Sam, the propane truck is here.”

Leaf raking is another sign of fall. It’s not quite the job it used to be. Nowadays Sam mows over a lot of leaves creating a mulch. I enjoy sweeping the porches and decks. It’s a clear sign you’ve done something. Some flower beds need putting to rest, but I’m waiting a little longer. Maybe even until the first frost. A few flowers are still hanging on, and I will miss them when they’re gone.

Shannon Bardwell is a writer living quietly in the Prairie. Email reaches her at [email protected].