September 22, 2024

Some use clocks. I keep time by the rhythm of The Meadow.

We’ve just passed the equinox on our way to the winter solstice. At it’s highest today, the sun is well off to the south and not nearly as high as it was mid-June. And, as my wife, Judi, described it recently, it feels…”old.”

September is waning, the cottonwoods still almost entirely green against the deepening blue of Colorado autumn. October, prepared in full costume, is just offstage, waiting… Waiting…

In the meantime the fauna in the creeks are busy. Hundreds of minnows bask in the shallows, crawdads carrying their treasures to who knows where. They have a few weeks to finish their work before the streams become cold. Then freeze over. Then turn white.

The harvest isn’t in yet. But my thoughts are turning already to the holidays that will have to be accounted for, with their busyness, leading to the “Sparkling Season” at the solstice.

Today, though, The Meadow is saying, “not so fast!” Today the leaves remain green, the sky is blue. The old sun is still warm.

It’s only September.