The Birds Say it's Time for Apple Pie

Today was the first day in many weeks where I could cool the house just by throwing open the right windows and creating a cross-breeze through the house.  A lovely, brisk current that should have made everyone feel refreshed and alive.

Instead, it created a feeling of impending doom for the younger members of the house.  Summer is indeed over, at least it's no longer in charge.  The cooler weather may not last for days, and warmer temperatures may return for a bit, but only for a bit.  The signs are all there.  It's time for school, and even the trees and the wind know it.

Some little part of me that still remembers the excitement, fear and sheer stress of these last few days of freedom becoming ten months of unrelenting education, felt sympathy with the cool wind that rustled the overgrown weeds that hang over the gravel pedestrian trail and carried hopeful seeds suspended from their white feathery parachutes. It's all necessary, but it happened so suddenly. 

Several dozen sparrows gathered in the brush and bushy undergrowth, until the sound of feet crunching through the gravel alerted them.  A flurry of brown wings beat the air and in a corporate flutter, they emerged to move further on.  Breeding done, they've gathered for a communal meeting, to discuss plans and destinations.  A small flock of geese flew over, calling attention to themselves with deep-throated honks. The great push is on to escape the cold that has not yet manifested but will soon be upon us.  It makes me think of sweaters and warm socks.

And apple pie.  That's when Autumn will really arrive.  When the wind blows cold and dry, the leaves chase each other as they tumble to the ground and the house smells of warm cinnamon and nutmeg.

I am looking forward to this, now.

The Winds of Change

Summer seemed rather incomplete this year, and not because it came late or left early. Some part of it must have to do with the maturing of the children in their interests and attitudes. And yet, the summer seemed hectic even without planning day trips to the beach or afternoons at the park. I am not sure where it went, and part of me is sad to see it go unfulfilled.

But an answer was heard this morning, a promise spoken on the wind. The glorious wind, that whipped through the trees and blustered through my open window, carelessly knocking over several items on my dresser in its rush to tell me. It came whistling a melody I hadn't heard in many long months, but know well.

The wind came to tell me that despite the fact that the trees are a tired, dull green instead of blazing into color and despite the persistently warm days following one after another, autumn is about to arrive.

Autumn is my favorite season. I love the crisp, cool days and the invigorating air. I love the smell of autumn and the colors. I love the winds of autumn, even though they strip the brilliance from the trees just a wee bit too soon.

I missed the chasing of the waves this year, and my heart yearns for the ocean. Perhaps that is why summer didn't satisfy. These misgivings and disappointments would hang heavily in the humid August air, but September has sent a cleansing wind to sweep out those remnants of unfulfilled dreams and lifted my soul up to where the treetops catch fire.