End of October

[Porch pumpkins after the storm; 10/30/12]

The storm hit us with a just glancing blow on Monday compared to many other places in its direct path, such as New York and New Jersey. Still, like a pack of wolves it picked off the old and weak. I heard the thunk of my neighbor's old willow tree when it went down out back, crushing my other neighbor's garage roof (and car within). I never lost power, though others in the area did. The next day, all the other trees were still standing, though stripped of their October finery down to sudden November undress. Soggy leaves plastered every street.

In Boston last weekend, the foliage was past peak, but still bright and lovely. And it was unseasonably warm. We got out on Saturday morning and walked over to the Esplanade to see the Second Annual Halloween Canine Promenade, featuring many of the city's faithful companions aimably dressed up for Halloween. I posted a bunch of photos of it here. Last night, my town's trick-or-treating went on as usual, and my upstairs neighbor and I stood out on our porch handing out candy to the small assortment of kids who came by dressed up as Dorothy of the Wizard of Oz, the Queen of Hearts, witches, devils, and ninja warriors.

[Esplanade Lagoon, Boston; 10/27/12]

[Boxer, Esplanade Halloween Canine Promenade, Boston; 10/27/12]

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I went out for a walk before sunset today, passing through St. Patrick's cemetery up the street. I usually take the main walkway, under the old oak trees past the oldest headstones and central monument with its Celtic cross, then out the other side into the neighboring streets. But I noticed a pumpkin tucked at the foot of one headstone that had to have been set out recently, so I went to look at the dates carved in the stone to find, sure enough, a 2011 entry.

I looked around the cemetery and found a few other headstones recently decorated. One had a pot of mums, a flag, and an empty nip bottle tucked behind the flowers. Down at the newer end were quite a few decorations that looked like they barely survived the storm, knocked-over pots of mums and blown-over American flags for the veterans. A man had parked his car down there and was standing at one grave for a long time. Then he went over and brushed the leaves away to clear another headstone, perhaps a relative? I thought of my mother and how she has no grave. There is a marker for her ashes at the church in Michigan where my father and brother live. It's an odd thing - I don't believe anyone is there in those graves, and yet there's some imprint of that person tied to a grave that keeps at least some loved ones returning to visit. I've only seen my mother's plaque once and it held nothing for me. I don't know if a grave would feel any different. It's been 5 years now. Like she was never here. Like she never left.

[Pot of mums, Newbury St, Boston; 10/27/12]

Comments

[Roberta]

This was a deeply moving post. You're writing just gets better and better as do your photographs.

[mm]

Glad you avoided the worst of the storm, Leslee.

Such an evocative post - I can practically smell the tang of autumn in the air. The last few sentences spoke to me particularly - it will be ten years in January since my own mother died. Like she never left indeed ....

[Leslee]

Roberta: Thank you. I really appreciate that.

MM: Thanks. I guess it's the season of los muertos, the veil between the living and the dead supposedly thinner this time of year. I don't think about my mother very often, but the memory of her can be startlingly fresh sometimes.