Turn, turn, turn

Yellow buses rumble down the road, carrying the neighbor kids who have traded in their bare feet and shorts for sneakers and back packs. Twice now, I've heard the geese call as they fly south and the maple in our front yard, once full of green leaves with spreading branches, has taken on a distinct hue of golden red. As our pumpkins grow ever larger, becoming heavy and orange, they can no longer be camouflaged by their green vines and the golden rod, once glorious in August, is bent over, making way for the deepening pink of the sedum and the pretty blue rays of petals that cheerfully announce the asters. Autumn is here.

All summer long, I have bathed in the heat, relishing the humidity and green. I hung my laundry on a line, swam in cool waters and enjoyed coffee on the lawn. I've relished the frogs and fireflies, herbs in full bloom, black compost, cut grass, ripe tomatoes and bitter greens. This change of season, from hot and sticky to cool and damp, makes me a little bit nostalgic for days not yet gone by.

Yet, tonight the house, full of friends and family, was warm and loud while the rain fell soft and steady outside. My counter was covered with dishes of meat, vegetables, pickles, cheese and bread. We ate with plates balanced on our knees, wiping fingers on our shirts for lack of napkins, talking over the din of laughing kids about alligators, surgeries, bike rides, leaving home and coming back again. Windows flung open all day, were pushed shut against the newly familiar bite of cold that caused us to pull our sweaters across our bodies and leave the socks on our feet. All the while, the sun set, invisible behind the gray clouds, a backdrop to clinking glasses of wine while we settled into the comfort of friends and conversations.

Now, with children in bed, the dishwasher running and a full glass of wine to end the night, I'm looking forward to long bike rides along foliage lined back roads, homemade applesauce, raking leaves and the warmth of the woodstove. I'll admit, I'm not ready for the inevitable snow or the bitter cold, but I have time still, to relish the turn of the seasons in this pretty little State I call home.

And my apologies to the Byrds...