Gardens and cats go together; especially in autumn. Autumn is such a dreamy season… and then again, there is something about the presence of a cat in a garden… a wistful feeling—certainly a sorts of quixotic mingling.
And thus, I’ve been staring out the window a lot these days; cozying up in the warmth of the insides while standing silently by the window looking at the quiet garden…
Lemon grass, sweetgrass and sleepy Jacob’s Ladder, cat thyme, pansies and heaps of dried leaves unite; they blend and come together as Nature gently puts them to sleep.
And the wind in the trees is chanting a sad hymn; it bewitches me and brings to mind dying and death. I shiver as I listen to this song; each stanza suggesting finitude; it’s the song inherent to autumn… the year is slowly dying.
I’m also thinking of life. My thoughts are thick; falling fast from some parts of my brain like autumn leaves on trees. This sense of depletion, of things coming to an end goes beyond the metaphorical death. Autumn’s chant is my own requiem; it is yours, it is ultimately humanity’s funeral song.
The mind in kinsmanship with the Natural world has learned; however, that there are no closing states in Nature. All that lives must die, and yet the promise of tomorrow's life is contained in the seeds of today's death… this thought offers yet another verdict; the mundane fuses with the spiritual—the essential God - Creator arises in the conscientious soul; an ever ingenerable and imperishable God… fear perishes in this hope…
Death is not eternal.