As late fall deepens into Sagittarius, I find it impossible to keep track of all the trees I've been watching.
I have a hard time remembering which tree where lost its leaves when and how.
I often rely on my old journals Combining notes from other years with the new notes seems to make time more real.
I want this autumn to happen again to specific trees at sepecific times, not just to trees in general in the broad expanse of October and November.
I connect my trees to parallel events that complement and fulfill the dramatic end of the world's year in this place.
I count absences. I list memories, making inventories of summer's plants and flowers and insects and storms, and on and on.
For there is no amount of enumeration that suffices.
I cannot pause to look at every object, every particle, to understand how one blends into another and is related to another and is reminiscent of another and depends on another and is prophetic of another, no matter how much minding and repeating, retelling, reminiscing I do.
This is Bill Felker with Poor Will’s Almanack. I’ll be back again next week with more notes on the seasons. In the meantime, don't do what I've been doing. Just let all those leaves go the way of all leaves.
