Every year, I seem to forget that Autumn comes late here in central North Carolina. I’m ready for it by September! I pull my thriving summer annuals up by the roots and chop my perennials down to the ground. This year, when I ordered new bulbs for fall planting, my online greenhouse was the voice of reason, tempering my excitement—as best it can be tempered—with a courteous email advising that my bulbs would ship when appropriate for my planting zone.
One day last week, I stepped out of the house and knew that Fall had arrived. It was a smell. It was a feeling. But mostly, it was the sight of crimson leaves the size of my hand peppering the walk and a vibrant, yellow-orange glow about the general landscape. That’s also the day my bulbs arrived.
Right on time.
Autumn here in the piedmont region will never compare to the mountainous, westerly region of North Carolina, but it’s beautiful in its own way. Here’s a look:
Go, sit upon the lofty hill,
And turn your eyes around,
Where waving woods and waters wild
Do hymn an autumn sound.
Come autumn’s scathe — come winter’s cold —
Come change — and human fate!
Whatever prospect Heaven doth bound,
Can ne’er be desolate.
Excerpts from Elizabeth Barret Browning’s poem, The Autumn. (1833)