Change

Change is in the air.  From my hilltop porch I can barely see the brown and orange tints on leaf tips.  The grass is beginning to mellow to a rich green-gold.  The morning air holds a hint of frost.  Bird calls are more insistent.  And the honey bees are working very hard to gather the last morsel of pollen and sweetness from late flowering plants and bushes.

When I walk in the morning I wear my sweatshirt more times than not, shedding it after the first couple of minutes.   Our eight resident deer are very shy.  They have taken to the woods to feast on acorns and other delicacies.  The quail have moved to bushes that offer more cover.  The turkeys are even aware that they may need to find some place to hide in the coming days.

We cleaned out the flue today.  There wasn't much to clean but we would always rather be safe than sorry.  The wood stove can wait.  No need for a morning fire right now.  But the winter's wood is stacked in the garage, ready to move to the porch when the cold winds blow.

The winds of change.  It would be a boring life if everything always remained the same.  I love the seasons as they come... as they move and meld into each other.  Soon hints of  red will appear, and then brown and orange and yellow as the leaves begin to turn. 

The days are growing shorter.  The night skies glow with diamond stars.  The Milky Way arches high above me.  Dawn bursts with brilliance in the east, and the sun sets with muted fire in the west.  

Fall will bring us days of blowing leaves and splatters of rain.  And days that are so bright they seem to be made of jewels. 

 All for our pleasure.  Change.  Change that is welcome.  Made for us to enjoy.