Canada geese have taken over Manito Park’s pond while scuttling ducks taxi on water after skidding in their splashy landing.
As I start my run early this morning, I shiver a bit, a tad chilled, and think Autumn. Perhaps it is the slant of light that is different from the light cast by early Summer as Sun crawls South. Oh, I know that the Sun really doesn’t move...that I see things from Earth’s rotating tilted perspective. Nonetheless, I still feel Autumn as I see small patches of crimson creeping in ivy vines, and I must look closely to distinguish growing ducklings from adults. The eagles’ nest appears empty though I know the eaglets must still be nearby, practicing the craft of wings. Grasshoppers continue to hum while crickets begin to silence at night. The robin’s-eggshell blue ceiling of Summer that soars over my head seems subtly deeper and more distant. Imperceptibly, the fleshy glory of Summer is turning to Autumn’s dignity.
The edge of the wind wrinkles pondwater into prints like the swirls on my fingertips.
I rub away goose pimples from my arms and remind myself of the farmers’ market I shall hit with all its Summer goodies following this run.
And the Summer delights I find. I fill my blue and black canvas bags with rich, firm tomatoes, vine-ripened, warm from the sun. Bitter lettuces in deep greens and purples and yellowy-white lacy clusters of dill. The orange of peaches and carrots and pumpkin tomatoes. Purple basil and purple green beans, the purple sloughing away in cooking. Fresh lavender, a fragrant den for the plump handsome bumblebees I adore.
Nonetheless, the Wheel of Seasons continues to roll South through the tunnel of Summer towards Autumn. Soon, I will switch out my pink running skirt and sundresses of Summer for my long black running tights and black floor-length dresses of Winter. But…for the moment…today…it is still Summer.
GL, 8/7/2010. Prevail.