as the colors change,
and the colors of my heart,
i contemplate fall.
about three weeks ago, *cr* and i talked about how It had happened: the color of the sunlight had changed, had taken on a warmer, golden hue. we'd noticed it over a month ago, only a fortnight after midsummer, but three weeks ago it was very, very definite.
and today i saw my first tree turning down the green for the vibrancy of orange, salmon, burnt sienna, saffron, cinnamon, cranberry...
i love the stunning vividness of autumn, i really do. but a part of me is alway so sad to see summer go. we've had our late summer "tropical" storms (warm rain, thunder showers, humidity like a thick and comforting blanket as i sleep naked listening to the rain outside my window), and there's a quivering anticipation in the air. the waiting game has begun, the guessing game of, "how long?"
how long will this warm weather last?
how long will we continue to see the sun?
how long until there is a touch of ice returned to the wind?
how long until the rain freezes?
how long until there is frost on my windshield?
not that i also don't love the fall and winter. father christmas, jack frost, and the snow king are coming. the sun child has lost his laurel crown and grew into the hunter's horns, but now he will be supplanted by the holly king. then will come lughnassadh in full celebration (barrelling for us with the ungodly speed of "egads, this year's gone by fast..."), and john barleycorn will die.
time, then, for the crocheting to come back out, and the needlepoint. time, then, for lentil soups; sweet cornbread; pumpkin custards; acorn squash with butter, honey, and cinnamon; hard squash breads, baked apple pudding; almond butter; raisined cherries, currants; game hens stuffed with wild rices and shining with a white wine and apricot glaze; sweet red mulled wines; port and cider while reading tarot to the family by candlelight...
with that one tree changing her green gown for the vibrant reds and oranges for one last burst of autumn gaiety before sleeping until spring, my thoughts already turn toward the longer nights, stocking up my house to keep my family comfortable until the light comes again...
...and i can still hear the warm summer rain outside my window.