The Edge of Fall

I feel as though I am caught between seasons. 

Looking back, I recall so many hot days this past summer, when the grass was crisp and the humidity heavy on the brow.  Yet, for us, it's been a season of great reward, bounty and joy.  It may go down in our own history book as being one of the best summers we've ever had.

Looking ahead, out here JOTOLR, I am celebrating two rains in a row that have bestowed a refreshing coolness--a benediction upon our parched lives.  It's a pause....more than a comma, less than a period--perhaps a dash.  There's a tendency to want to sigh, to relax, to take in the tempered air as if I were a new baby, sampling the delicious conglomerates of dampened earth, puddles, and clean-washed blades of grass.  I also contemplate with both a sense of adventure and trepidation, what this coming winter will bring...

For now, I have almost completed the marathon of picking, preserving, pickling...putting by.  And, for the moment, it is time to simply breathe.

I eagerly await the leaf-storms and riotous colors that I know will soon descend.  The Black Walnut has already begun its retreat, with showers of golden yellow flurries nudged with only the slightest breeze.  There is the odd Virginia Creeper leaf that surprises against the still green lawn...an anomaly, now, but soon its fellows will add their decorations to my world.

This is a good time.  Peaceful.  Gentle.  So good to be here on the edge of fall.