Friday morning, 24 September: It’s a beautiful, cool morning; plenty of sunshine. Four long-absent deer browsed around the back end of the yard. It’s a perfect morning for coffee on porch, filling up on joyful sunshine and the peace of God
Friday evening, 24 September: The morning’s sunshine has given way to a grayscale sky and a light breeze. Autumn’s sway is holding, but seems tenuous.
Autumn and spring seem less like seasons, and more like battlegrounds on the borderlands between summer and winter; skirmishes before one earns an uncontested, if temporary, victory. Winter’s advance scouting party is encamped for the moment, but summer will reoccupy for a bit in the days ahead.
Saturday morning, 25 September: Cool and foggy, the morning is again peaceful. The coffee is hot. Last night’s rain is still filtering through the the woods, tapping an unstructured rhythm in the leaves. A lazy breeze brings a shiver to the trees and a chill to my tee-shirted body. The blackberry bushes need pruning.
Sunday morning, 26 September: There is again a chill in the morning air. High cirrus clouds linger in the sky, but the sun dominates the blue sky. Summer will fight back before day’s end, I expect. The coughing call of a woodpecker and the caustic screech of a blue jay catch my attention, along with a chorus of other chirps, tweets, and whistles that I’ve yet to learn to identify.
Thursday evening, 30 September: The early part of the week was predictably warm – summer doesn’t give up so easily in these parts. Nonetheless, the leaves are starting to turn – winter is inevitable. Storms are arriving in the coming days. The air is still and thick. Tense. The trees’ allegiance is starting to shift, belied by the subtle change of uniform from green to gold. Winter is inevitable.