It’s the first day of autumn—it arrives at 8:44 am. EST. These moments have meaning and I like celebrating the comings and goings of significant events. In 1985, I led my office in a countdown to spring and cheered with my co-workers at the coming of new life, more sunlight, and longer days.
The mornings are crisp, while afternoons heat up. I saw a hummingbird yesterday even before the sun had fully lit the sky. This morning I saw another, one who stopped fully to sip from 3 of the 4 available holes in the nectar feeder. The goldfinches have stopped picking at the seeds of the echinacea where charcoal-black heads have long-ago replaced the hot-pink blooms.
There is a cardinal at the safflower cylinder. With plenty of room to spare, he squawks at the sparrows who dare to join him for a meal. His feathers are too light to be a male, too dark to be a female.
Last night I counted 14 blooms on the moonflower plant out front. I numbered them in the fading light and drank in their fragrance before bed. I remain in awe of the presentation—of what it takes to be so glorious for only one night.
Welcome, autumn. Welcome, colorful leaves and frantic squirrels. Welcome, darker evenings and cooler days. Welcome, activity of harvest, rush of migration, and deep-in-the-blanket rest.
Lovely read, as always!!!
You are kind. Thank you.