Blog, Outdoors, Words

Last breaths of summer

It’s warm today, but not the searing heat of weeks past. Muted, warmth in the breeze, echoing the gentleness that hangs in the air. Plants still flower but without the vigour and brightness of high summer. Smaller flowers, duller tones. Leaves begin to droop, ever so slightly, as they cling to the parting waves, echoes of youth.

The nights are cooler, shorter, darkness falling a few hours earlier. The long nights drawing smaller, slipping by quicker that I can say. Suddenly, darkness arrives at 9pm, rather than 11pm. Suddenly, I find myself slipping a hoodie over a t-shirt. Autumn is eking into our minds, mingling with the last gasps of summer. A time of transition, subtle change.

I find myself drinking in the laziness of subtle heat, stretching myself out to match the days, feeling change bubble in my bloodstream. Animal memories from millennia past drive me to gather, to collect and store. Winter vegetables are planted in warm, nourishing earth, soon to cool. Preparing to feel the icy lick of Jack Frost in coming months.

I’m a summer person, living for heat and light and endless days, but something this year is drawing me to autumn. I find myself looking forward to the lure of a crackling fire, to breathing in icy breath in mornings still dark and twinkling. Is it just change I crave, after this long, relentless summer? Do I need that time to slow now, to count the fruit of labours long seeded? Is it time to reflect and place into motion those tiny lights, ideas whispering in aura glow?

A simple joy in breathing deeply, relying on the unnamed wave of instinct that somehow floods this small human being. That I can somehow feel that change, the shift on a level I can’t describe, is a wonder. Information gathered through the hint of those zephyr whirls. The slow nod of branches, from the sound my feet makeĀ  as the cross the ground. A wild, untamed part of me – a link to deep, deep time.

I ride the crest of this feeling, pure joy in unspoken knowledge, languishing in the gentle lull of two changing seasons as they mingle together, as familiar friends slowly parting. And I look, with everything but my eyes, a tiny part of a great heartbeat. And in that pulse, I find beauty, consolation, and the magic of being part of a story bigger than us all.

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