Tuesday, September 07, 2010
I stepped into the back garden this morning, cool air brushing the hair at my nape. The sun shone, but the air has a nip in it. Not much, just enough to let me know.
Last night with friends under the arbor, I interrupted conversation to blurt out “The geese.” The V in flight shows soon after I hear their honking. The geese flying low, overhead, between the two rivers tells me what I already know.
The syrup for peaches sat cooling on the counter, next to the box of fragrant, delicate fruit, awaiting their processing. This year no canning of peaches but instead, wet packed in bags, destined for the freezer. As I filled the bags, I saw it. The light coming through the glass pitcher of syrup on the counter. It wasn’t warm orange, but it wasn’t the color of light in July, either. That is a crisp clear light. Today, I saw the light turning and beginning to glow.
I’ve been vacillating between anger and fear this week. Anger at a whole row of tomato plants yet to produce a red tomato, but heavily laden with green fruit, even though it is already September. At the first day of September wet with rain and dark with a grey sky. Fear of a long winter beginning too early, and what that means for my self care against seasonal sadness. The short dark days of winter loom on the horizon, and all I want is some time to feel the summer heat, hold onto a great tan, and gaze at my silver polished toes in sandals. For evening walks, driving with my sunroof open and hanging laundry out to dry.
My hairstylist and I debated the pros and cons of continuing my summer highlights or transitioning to my winterly darker colors. I’m grateful she suggested “We should keep the highlights until next time.” And so as we step into this cool September, I accept that we may be transitioning into a new season. But my hair? It’s still holding out for summer’s sun, and my tomatoes? They are too.
Posted by LeLo at Tuesday, September 07, 2010