When the sun’s last blush is fading and evening prepares for nightfall, the usual quietness here becomes a noticeable hush. The birds that have busily flittered and twittered around all day suddenly react as if a signal has declared their bedtime.
Trees blacken in silhouette. Mist from the marsh beyond them begins to rise against a distant hill and the air freshens with nighttime earthiness. One by one, tree frogs begin their chorus.
As darkness settles in, I begin writing.
When is your favourite time to begin your day’s writing?
“… and the land was wide, and quiet, and peaceable…”
[1 Chronicles 4:40b]
Glimmers of golden sunshine slice through the woods, splashing stripes of light onto the lawn. Beyond the trees the marsh will be aglow with sparkles tipping the ripples made by a dozen Mallards, glossy green and mottled brown, feeding in the grasses and reeds.
I heard the geese earlier. We have two pair that nest in the marsh each spring… one has made a nest directly on top of the beaver house and returns to it every year. I don’t know what the beaver think of that, but the geese apparently believe it’s the safest nursery in the neighbourhood.
When fall temperatures dip, some geese migrate south in their aerodynamic V-formations, but many Lower Mainland flocks simply relocate and settle into local parks and grasslands for the winter. The honking heralds preparations for an early departure, confirming my fear that our season of summer is truly over.
I’m melancholic. It’s temporary because I love fall. I’m just not quite ready to let go of summer.
There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity…. [Ecclesiastes 3:1]
As summer transitions into fall, how is your mood affected?