Sunday, September 17, 2023

A purview of coming attractions

We're in the last week of the seasonal crossover. On Saturday next, both the meteorological and the astronomical autumns will be in alignment. In a week, we’ll be enjoying less than twelve hours of daylight, and the days will continue to shorten until December 21. Then they’ll get longer by a few seconds on the 23rd and thereafter lengthen more and more.

time for autumn colors to emerge
time for autumn colors to emerge
Photo by J. Harrington

This is a busy time of year for us. I keep feeling that the Better Half and I should have done a more careful management of the Daughter Person and Son-In-Law’s scheduling. His birthday is mid-month September. Their daughter was born near the end of the same month and their wedding anniversary is early October. It sort of replicates my unfortunate circumstances of having been born within a week of Father’s Day. Families and individuals should be authorized to rearrange things so important dates don’t all pile up on each other. Our son is a classic example of bad timing. He was born on Christmas which, while kind of a bummer for him, is the best Christmas present I could ever hope for. We always make sure to end Christmas by noon so the afternoon can be his birthday.

The thunderstorms in the extended forecast make the prospects of a brush pile burn on the equinox look iffy. Living where we do, there’s always the possibility of a blizzard around Halloween. Which reminds me, I need to remember to change the oil and gas up the snowblower. Sigh! If we avoid any significant snowfall before Christmas season begins (or beyond), I’ll have a great Thanksgiving celebration.

In addition to autumn being the traditional harvest season when row crops are combined, we’re entering a period in which, if we’re lucky, we can harvest another crop of wonderful holiday memories of times spent with family and friends, weather permitting.


Untitled [Each crisp autumn]

Each crisp autumn
there are fewer leaves, more clarity—
light cycles of the haymound
odors of late roses
rivers rushing where we
once meandered
content in the casual chaos of each
season, plotting no espionage
because we did not know
the world as terror then.



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