Chapter Four: HEARTS UNDER FALLEN LEAVES

By now most of the leaves have fallen off the forest of oaks that surround our house. A patchwork quilt of gold, rust and brown carpets the still green grass hidden underneath now only revealed in swaths made by the passes of the lawnmower from yesterday’s first fall mulching. The birdbaths have frozen, which means it's time to plug in the heated ones and upturn the cement baths so they won't fill with freezing rain or snow and crack in frigid temperatures. The feeders and hanging suet cakes are busy bird buffet bars throughout the day. Nearly all of the annuals and many of the perennials in the garden have finally succumbed to several nights’ freezes. Last night’s seems to have sealed their fate for winter’s onset. Scavenging birds, squirrels and chipmunks aren't dissuaded by the demise or dormancy of my garden. They still manage to ferret out fallen seeds or strafe clean remaining intact seed heads. I’m never sad to see the garden flora fade in the fall because even mawkish browned leaves and near-barren branches still manage to provide life to hungry, cold-hardy birds and pre-hibernating mammals.

The natural tenacious continuation of animal life I observed through my window that morning, however, only served to remind me of the futile finality of other animal life. My gaze turned from the front window that overlooks the major part of my garden to the glass doors at the rear of the house which opened onto the deck and revealed a broad view of the backyard, the woods beyond and our little blue shed. For days I'd avoided that view fearing my eyes would wander toward the shed. Sandy is buried near the side of the shed. Yet at that moment my slippers seemed to drag me toward the glass doors where I could see an even thicker carpet of multi colored leaves cloaking the ground. I stood there my fears eventually came to fruition when my eyes wandered toward the little blue shed.

My head battles with my heart to stave off welling tears by distracting my eyes toward the frenetic antics of an extremely fluffy-tailed squirrel splashing through the crumpled sea of leaves. As it usually does these days, however, my heart wins out and I peer past the shed to see a portion of Sandy’s grave site. Despite more than several attempts, I was not yet able to go back there. But from the window, I could just barely spy a thread of golden leaves beginning to weave the autumn quilt eventually to cover where her body lay in the casket wrapped in her favorite sweater of mine along with two of her precious brushes and several of her most loved and nuzzled toys One was an organic catnip-filled alligator I placed between her paws as I laid her on her side, wrapped the arms of that sweater around her and placed a picture of my father above her head.

Seeing the growing leaf quilt, I could only think that it would never be as warm or thick or comforting or protective as her many, many soft fleecy and wool blankets or her insulated beds and cat hutch. Certainly no thickness of leaves or covering of snow would ever provide the warmth from the curve of my arm as she lay cradled against my chest while I’d sing to her, "Baby Of Mine" and brush her or just stroke her fur. No. No sweater or thick cover of gnarled leaves or layered frozen snow could never come close to the warm blanket of safety, security, togetherness and love we provided each other.

I pulled my robe closer to me as I stood there at the glass door. The coldness I felt wasn't drifting through the old, uninsulated glass panes. It welled up from deep within me; from my heart; my gut. I wrapped my arms even tighter around my body, only now it was just to steady myself and try to hold myself together for yet another day.

She must be so cold, I kept thinking and felt my heart grow heavy once again. I lowered my head, unable to look any longer or bear thoughts of that cold ground surrounding her body. I stood there slumped against the door with the unbearable knowledge that the only warmth I could give her now was warmth of tears sliding effortlessly and unconsciously down my cheek onto the robe still speckled with her soft, gray fur.