“She told me the seasons were changing. The sun was shining but it was not hot. I could feel a sense of irritability in the air. Breezy, calm, breezy, no one noticed, and no one cared at least not this day. Perhaps when one thinks about yet another change to endure, the water down the drain, or maybe the days gone by they will fret. It will turn cold; it will rain or maybe snow. Residing indoors hovering near a warm cavern of sorts will be utmost. Watch through your window, it will come, the night will last. She told me the seasons were changing. I told her, yeah, I know.”
A favorite piece I wrote some years ago while soaking in the autumn sunshine on a bench along the Columbia River walkway. A day perhaps like Wednesday. Fresh east winds, sunshine and warm temperatures but not feeling hot. This lady came by and sat down and made the comments that the seasons were changing. There was something peculiar about her, but the short conversation about the new season has stuck in my mind.
Summer is busy, busy, busy. In fact, the other seasons winter and spring also seem busy. Maybe that is why fall is a favorite of most people. Everything tends to wind down and come to a slower pace. Outside on the sunny days and back inside cozy in front of the fire.
Yep, the seasons are changing, but nature remains on the busy side. Plants, animals, insects and the like are rapidly preparing for a long winter slumber. Gathering their needs for the dormancy that falls upon us.
