On the edge of summer, the green wanes and the wind is quiet.
Time for the autumn’s fiery pageant to salsa her dazzling colours across the land –
auburn, amber, golden yellow
Before her routine is complete.
Stillness throws down his thread-bare, cold edged cloak.
Waiting decay creeps into her joints and sits unravelling summer’s dreams.
Clouds hang as a gossamer, grey shroud.
The year is past
Winter’s faint trumpet sounds.
For the last few years, I have watched as the seasons change. The childlike excitement at the possibility of snow and the pure pleasure of the sound of snow under foot; expectant anticipation of spring and the vivid new green of freshly enlivened trees; long, warm summer days and the joy of squeezing every last moment out of the daylight and finally the rust colours of autumn. As I reflect back, this year, in particular, has had it all, from several snow days to the long hot summer. It was great, wasn’t it?
Now the autumn has arrived. Earlier than before maybe? I wander slowly along the country lanes and up through vineyards listening to the wind and ticker tape rattle of falling leaves. The land is beginning to rest and with it a melancoly has entered the air. Maybe that feeling is more a reflection of my own heart at the moment. However, as I watch and seek to learn from my friend nature, I too know that I must allow myself time to rest. I am just not very sure how to!