Endings. And new beginnings

October is always a month of changes. Some years more so than others. Summer has finally bid us farewell and, although the weather is cooler, it is still pleasant enough to be outdoors.

.I am finally doing some gardening again: planting bulbs, removing weeds, trimming anything that looks overgrown and deciding what will stay and what should go. While I was never a gardening enthusiast when I was younger, I now find a lot of joy in the simple tasks of planting seeds and seeing them grow. It would be impossible to keep anything but the hardiest plants alive here were it not for an underground reservoir beneath our yard that captures rainwater during our very short wet season. Today my prayers for rain were answered with a massive downpour and a thunderstorm. Autumn bliss.

October brought with it another change this year. Our son, the one I used to call the Mischief maker so long ago, started Junior College (that would be senior high school in the US and sixth form in the UK) last week. He is in a very big new school with new teachers and hundreds of new faces. There's so much for him to learn, such a flurry of new activities to get used to, such an important step towards the career of his dreams. I admit to being anxious at the thought of so much newness to get used to - for him and for us. All will be well but my thoughts are in a hundreds different places and  I'm more scatter-brained than usual. This is a new phase in my life too. One during which I have to gently let go and guide from a distance. It will be a learning curve. I hope I do well.

We couldn't say good bye to summer without attending a few events that were on our radar. After a delay of  9 months (because we all came down with Covid last Christmas) the boys (my husband and son) went to the Underground Valletta guided tour. These tours, organized by Heritage Malta, provide visitors with a unique opportunity to access the tunnels running underneath our capital city. The underground tunnels were created during the construction of Valletta. Some acted as drains for water or sewage and others allowed the movement of troops. Centuries later the tunnels would serve as shelters during the second World War.  I was told that the tour ends spectacularly in an underground cistern whose massive size resembles the interior of a cathedral. More information can be found in this articles: The Secrets of Underground Valletta. I opted out of this tour as I was afraid there would be cockroaches (I hate them) in those dark, dank tunnels. However, I was told that there weren't any, so maybe I'll pluck up the courage and go some other time.

In September we also had the opportunity to visit the small but highly informative Meet The Phoenicians of Malta exhibition at the National Museum of Archaeology. The Phoenicians were ancient traders from Tyre and Sidon (modern day Lebanon) who sailed to various ports in the Mediterranean and beyond. Apart from an innate fascination with the Phoenicians that I've had since childhood, this exhibition was even more interesting for us because the artifacts were excavated inside a tomb which was discovered just a mile away from the town where we live. The bones and other objects are still being analyzed and studied but I was completely bowled over by the enormous stone sarcophagus that was excavated from the site. How was it transported? Was it built in place?  And, because I'm prone to flights of fancy, could these be the bones of my ancestors? So many questions came to my mind as I traced by fingers lightly across the massive stone structure, wondering at the incredible achievements of this ancient race.

More than any other season, autumn is all about endings and beginnings. As I say goodbye to lazy Saturday mornings at the beach and empty our beach bags of sand and sundry small pebbles that hide in there all summer, I will welcome our treks to what is left of Malta's decimated countryside, looking forward to visit such sties as the arch at tal-Hamrija and Lippija Tower.

In Nature too the cycle of endings and beginnings continues. The swifts that throughout September filled our skies with their joyous chirping and twittering have moved on. It is strangely silent now. But, last week, at dawn, I heard a robin's call and, later, I saw that the pomegranate fruits are ripe on the trees and bursting their skins. Both are sure signs that autumn is here at last.