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