September is a Season

September Nature Table.  First row: pine, sage, rosemary, oregano. Secone row: pecans and pinecones, plums, magnolia seeds, moss ball thingy.

A Gulf Coast September Nature Table. First row: pine, sage, rosemary, oregano. Secone row: pecans and pinecones, plums, magnolia seeds, moss ball thingy.

Ah September.  September is autumn.  It is crunching through orange leaves through the autumn mists on the way to your one-room red schoolhouse, plucking apples from the trees on the way, clapping your hands to get warm, inhaling the brisk air of fall.  Tra la la… or not.

Maybe if you live in rural Vermont.  September here on the Gulf Coast plain tells a different story and it doesn’t look like that at all, (even though those are the images children receive from school, books and movies each year).  But we do have a change of season.  September may not look like orange leaves, but there are significant changes none-the-less, and it’s fun to discover them with children.  Along the way we might discover that our wet, stormy, semi-tropical subtle fall has its own beauty.

September is…

September is RAIN!  Those delicious afternoon storms piling indigo upon indigo in the clouds, almost every afternoon.  It’s monsoon season… and unfortunately it’s also hurricane season.

September is pecans and pecan shells underfoot, if you happen to have the trees in your yard.  If you know how to open them (nutcracker, hammer for the less refined of us) you can feast every time you go outdoors, and make things of the shells, little boats and fairy dishes.

September is saying goodbye to some of our bird friends.  The white wing doves are still around but why are they not singing any more?  I guess courting time is over…

doves

The Sound of Silence.

I still glimpse the iridescent black and blue coat of our loud, cussing friend, the Grackle, but I don’t notice armies of them ominously hunkered on the telephone wires any more.

What?

What?

I wonder why some birds stay and some move on.

September is hot days still, but cooler mornings, and maybe even the first cool front.

September is bees, and flowers blooming- our second spring.  Black-eyed Susan, trumpet vine, morning glories, oh my!  A friend tipped me off: you can see our second spring blooming at the Mercer Arboretum and Botanical Gardens.

Who says we don't get fall colors in Houston?  From the Mercer Arboretum

Who says we don’t get fall colors in Houston? From the Mercer Arboretum

By the end of the month, I’ll see that September is dusk falling at 7 pm instead of 8, and the noon light changing from hard white to a softer yellow.

SunBee’s September story will be posted soon!  In the meantime, just look at the garden at  Te House of Tea where we have our circle… what a lovely September garden.

Flowers in September

Flowers in September

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The beautiful new trellis

 

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All enclosed by morning glories

What do you and your children notice about Houston September?  Is there anything I might have missed?

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My Grandma and the Magic Drawer- or Why I Tell Stories

 

My Grandma Lucille and me, 1985

My Grandma Lucille and me, 1985

When I was little and we went to my Grandma’s house, she never said too much.  She grew up on a Kansas farm in the dustbowl, the child of Swedish immigrants and one of many children.  She was quiet and reserved.  She still pincurled her hair so it made soft little white roses around her face.  Her eyes were a sea-blue.  She wore blouses and knee-length skirts she sewed herself and she was slender and she wore little maryjane square-dance shoes with a square heel, and every time she sat down her ankles would cross as soon as she hit the chair.  She never raised her voice, was modest as could be, and yet it was she who introduced us to an untamed world of pure wild magic.

She would lead us back to her bedroom, my sister and me.  There was a certain drawer in the dresser that we loved because it was ours, it was a Magic Drawer.  Each time we came to visit she would tell us, “Open the drawer now girls,” and we would, and there was always a treasure for us.

Great Swedish Fairytales, illustrated by John Bauer.  The infamous book that fell to pieces, we read it so much.

Great Swedish Fairytales, illustrated by John Bauer. The infamous book that fell to pieces, we read it so much.

Looking back, the things in the drawer weren’t fancy or expensive.  Sometimes it was a new pack of crayons, or a book of paper dolls, but what I remember most were the books- old-fashioned books of fairy stories and nursurey rhymes, with glossy, realistic , impossible illustrations of jade-green forests, lolling ruby tongues of wolves, the glimmer of a golden crown.

So my childhood was always full of fairy tales.  My grandma even managed to weave them into real life, like the time when she visited Sweden with my Grandpa and I still remember the postcard she wrote to me: “Today I saw a moose and a witch’s house.”  She was a first-grade teacher and knew all about making magic for children, but I didn’t know anything about that, then.  She never drew attention to herself; she made it seem as if the magic was coming not from her but as if she just plucked it accidentally out of real life, casually as a golden apple.  It took me until adulthood to realize it was she the whole time, who was magic.

The Big Bad Wolf as illustrated by the great Svend Otto S.  We loved to be scared by this guy.  Um... most of the time.

The Big Bad Wolf as illustrated by the great Svend Otto S. We loved to be scared by this guy. Um… most of the time.

It was also only when I grew up that I realized not all children were blessed to grow up with fairy stories.  In my experience as a pre-k and kindergarten teacher I could read as many as I wanted to the children during “rest time” or “free time”, but during the official circle I had to read books about such topics as How to Say Please and Thank You and Going to the Dentist and Getting Along with my Little Brother and Colors, Shapes, Counting, ABC.

I’m not saying these books don’t have meaning, but sometimes I think that is all some children get.  Babysitting the two little ones of a friend, we watched some cartoons on the Disney Channel.  Shapes, Counting, hackneyed Morals- I was bored, dazed, and somewhere in there, my inner child was appalled.  Where were the creatures and heroes and villains of the cartoons I used to watch in the 80’s?  I mean, they were dreadful cartoons but at least they were about overcoming conflict and a fight for the good and empathy and magic and emotion (not to mention, a love of stories that translates later on into a love of reading).  These cartoons were about getting a single, simple right answer.

I wanted to start SunBee Circle because the greatest accomplishment in life is not identifying a triangle.  It’s not getting an answer right.  What it IS- that’s a mystery that only a story can unveil.  My Grandma shared this with me.  I will share it too.