Chipmunk Tables

Friday, November 27, 2009

It's the day after Thanksgiving and the house is quiet. Even Karl the Wonder Dog slept in longer. The kitchen counter still has dishes, clean and neatly stacked but not yet shelved. The dishwasher is full and needs to be emptied. The refrigerator is packed tightly as if no one came to dine, and two butter dishes, one more than we need, are shelved in front of the middle shelf, having journeyed from opposite ends of a table of friendships. Three pies sit covered on the sideboard, each missing different numbers of symmetrically cut pieces. The remaining pie pieces represent less of a popularity contest than a "getting full" response to Gail's query of "Who wants apple? Pumpkin? Mince meat? If Eric stops by this morning to visit, I'm sure he'll find one to try with coffee.

With more patience than encouragement, I waited for Karl to rise and stretch and ask me for a walk. I had been ready for some time but the quiet was nice and I savored it. He woke and with a clip of the leash snap, we were out the door and heading through the sugar bush. The leaves were quiet and they smelled like the remaining days of fall without snow.

I glanced down through the maple trees knowing that my neighbor would not be out and about yet. It's still too early and damp I thought but I headed towards the big stone and his bench to check anyway. Karl knew the direction and beelined for it despite my protest to his excessive speed. I wanted to enjoy the morning.

The bench was covered with leaves. My friend was absent. Had he been by recently the seat would have been swept clean of leaves. I know he likes the bench and although it's "his" I sit on it sometimes, sometimes talking, often just sitting and enjoying. Today it was too wet to sit but I stood and looked off to Hooker Mountain and reflected on the things that I am thankful for.

Karl and I retraced our steps and headed for the tall pines on our side of the road and then out back towards the white spring. We stopped along the way for a moment. Chipmunk tables. I make them at times when cutting wood leaves pieces unfit for the fire but good enough for tables in the forest. Birds and beasts as small as insects, mice, chipmunks and squirrels like tables to dine on. Karl and I like to observe who is dining and who is not. Today we watched a red squirrel chatter cautionary remarks while he ate balsam seeds. Avoiding impolite interruption, we turned and left. Karl's tail wagged goodbye and I left a smile behind us. There's lots to be thankful for.

Writing from the mountain above Peacham Pond where the temperature has dropped to 36 degrees and windless dampness prevails.

Fall garden wishes for final cleanups and good walks to plan for next year's gardens.

George Africa
The Vermont Gardener
Vermont Flower Farm
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