Chilly, chilly!

 

We just experienced about three days with unseasonably cool temps, 40s and 50s.    Lots of people tell me they started fires or clicked to turn on their gas fireplaces, well before they would have wanted to, now the end of August.

Julie Draves shares these thoughtful words about summer's eventual end, and the fall days on the horizon.   Thanks, Julie, for the photo of fall berries, and for your careful writing about our coming change of seasons.

 

The beginning of the end. That's where we are now, at least as far as summer goes. Here in the north, it is easy to see. The sun has slid to the southern sky. It no longer dominates the center or hangs so high overhead. It is positioning for the coming days of winter when it will make its brief appearance deep across the southern edges of the earth. The crickets know, too. The cadence of their song has changed, and in the dewy evenings, that come earlier now, their slow, deep, rippley trills announce the coming of a new season.

The flowers know, The milkweed is releasing its silken seeds, the lupine have exploded their brittle pods, casting next year's crop. It is now the reign of asters and goldenrod--summer's last hurrah-- before the leaves begin to yellow and turn brown. A few maples seem to feel the need to bugle the change, the tips of their leaves tinged with red. The Bracken ferns have begun to sign out--yellowing gracefully, and the last of the blackberries beckon for intrepid jam makers.

It is still summer, but we are being given our notice. Autumn is on the way. The days are still warm and balmy, although there is a chill in the air at night and in the early morning. In just a month the oaks and maples and aspen will paint our woods with glowing reds and yellows and vibrant orange. Autumn will be here--and quickly gone.

Then the snow will come, and the cold days. . .seemingly endless in some years--the long sleep, and we will eagerly await the new spring with its tender shoots of green and yellow, and promises of summer's brief profusion.

That is the definition of hope. And we embrace it.

  

Comments

[Linda]

So perfect!! Thanks Julie.