Wednesday morning, and the first day of the last week in August. Both month and season are fast winding down.
The river upstream from the cottage gleams reddish-gold in the burgeoning light, as if the mirrored water were preparing itself for the flaming reflections of the patchwork leaves a few weeks hence. As Carolyn over at Roundtop Ruminations mused recently, fall is sneaking in. Yet the view of the corridor woods up or downstream is still of an unbroken green swathe lining both banks. Certainly not as variegated in shades of green as back in May, nor as vibrantly lush as the green of June. And not even the tired and dusty looking green I expect to see come September. Just the near-monotone green that has dominated the eye through all of July and will continue through August.
And yet…something's coming. I know it without question. I can't see it or hear it or smell it—but I can feel it. Change is afoot.
Carolyn takes her reassurance of this fact from the birds—the local migratory patterns of hawks and warblers, among others. My familiarity with such avian behavior as related to a specific place is not nearly so finely tuned. Truth be told, I lack the organizational discipline for such critical record keeping, not to mention the gypsy wanderlust that has kept me on the move too much to be an astute stationary observer, never following the round of the year repeatedly from the same viewpoint.
Instead, I'm purely intuitive—part augur, part diviner, with a dash or so of backwoods soothsayer. I listen to wind and water, watch the light, heft the occasional riverstone…try and catch the music of the stars late at night when fogs spirits float over the pool and bats sift the damp darkness. I'd like to think there are still a few drops of druid blood flowing through my veins—maybe a distant diviner grandfather, or goose-bone prophet.
I'll bet the old ones simply knew, too. Knew from some place deep within. Just as I, standing in the red-gold light of another morning, beside my beloved old river, also know—and know unequivocally: time is on the move, the great seasonal wheel keeps turning.
Change is coming.