Whittling Away: Is ‘Squirrel Syndrome’ a real thing?

My biological clock has recently clicked onto Fall. I have my annual dose of what I refer to as “Squirrel Syndrome.” I get this anxious feeling deep down in the parts of me where the ancient animal lives and I start to scurry around the property trying to get all the jobs I wanted to get accomplished during the warm months done. I have so far resisted the primal urge to stuff my cheeks with peanuts while doing this for fear that the neighbors will worry but its been hard.

Everywhere I look there are signs of the big sleep approaching. The gardens are wilted and what flowers remain are fading fast in spite of the occasional warm weather. Brown dried leaves are starting to collect under some of the plants and trees. I noticed one of the deer browsing on some of our periennals was carrying a legal pad, probably making out a winter menu or map of where the tastier plants can be found in our gardens. I burned our copy of “Bambi” recently.

I took a break and sat at the picnic table and watched one of my fellow squirrels hopping from garden to garden trying to find seeds or nuts. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that the deer had already eaten all of them. As often happens on such occasions I had a little ponder.

We had an impromptu gathering last night at a local restaurant. We had around a dozen old friends, the combined age of the group would have totaled over 600 or so years. The good old days and current medical conditions were the main topics of conversations. It was really enjoyable.

I looked around the group and couldn’t help thinking about my gardens. As a group, we looked a little wilted and bowed before the weather. The time of our big sleep is getting closer than most of us would like to admit. However, just as when a garden is at rest during the winter, life can be found with a little digging and warming, it was comforting to find the signs of life in our little group, the eyes still sparkled, the smiles and laughter came easily and often. A shared memory would shed the white hair and wrinkles and 30 or 40 years would slip away and we were young again, excited by our journey down life’s dusty road.

Just as I have faith that my gardens will bloom again in the spring, it’s pretty easy at times like this to have the faith that my friends will bloom again in a garden further down the path.

The hopping little gray squirrel drew me out of ponder mode when he hopped close to the picnic table, having seen no movement to frighten him. I wished him well which scared the she-bangs out of him and he flew up the nearby maple tree and proceeded to tell me in an angry voice what he thought of my intrusion into his search for lunch.

The idea of lunch reminded me that snack time was rapidly approaching. I reluctantly left the sun warmed picnic table and the irate squirrel and retreated to the peace and quiet of the refrigerator. One must keep their strength up.

Thought for the week — Experience is something you don’t get until just after you need it. — Olivier

Until next week, may you and yours be happy and well.

Reach Dick Brooks at Whittle12124@yahoo.com.