Season of Change

Every withered blade of wild grass, every pine needle, reflects the light as if holding tight to the last of the summer sun. Mornings and evenings are starting ever-so-slightly to close in now. It is the season of change between summer and autumn.

Long late-summer shadows through our pines
on my morning walk

"Did you hear that?" Last night the first flock of Canadian geese passed noisily overhead as my husband and I lay reading in bed. And so it is starting; the remarkable migration of our feathered friends silhouetted in brilliant sunsets or hidden in a morning mist.

I picked the first of my little pumpkins yesterday.
 It gets a place of honor by the front door.

I can't drink in enough moments of this season, lest it pass by unnoticed from busy-ness of the day. This year I will not let the snow cover it until I have been filled to overflowing with the beauty of autumn.

Cool, coastal mornings give way to brilliant blue afternoon skies.
The sunflowers are glorious now!