Sunday, September 30, 2012

SEPTEMBER FAREWELL

This evening, I watched from my deck rocking chair as the sun sank in the west and twilight stole across the river. The sky slowly dimmed, sycamores leaning over the water grew somber, the riffle went from azure to indigo—while two-hundred yards upstream, a final surge of direct light found an opening in the blocking hills, blazed onto the eastern bank, and the first of the turning leaves glowed boldly in hues of  red and yellow. 

September, I thought, was quickly slipping away, bidding me fare-thee-well even as a bright Harvest Moon—a day past full—began it's evening climb into the sky. The next full moon will be the Hunter's Moon, and after that comes the Beaver Moon.

I love this time of year, love watching autumn assert its rule, claiming and transforming the land; it always catches me in its spell. Still, I also wonder—how many more times will I have the privilege of witnessing this change? How many more times will any of us? Time is a precious gift, never to be wasted. It's taken me a while to learn that—but I'm always cognizant of that singular inescapable fact, and never more so than during these weeks of turning leaves. Autumn is nature's vivid metaphor for our allotted time. We too, have our season.

So, in this final bow of glory another September bids adieu. I wish it well and thank it for the this evening's show…even as I whisper a silent prayer that we'll meet again.                  

14 comments:

Robin said...

Gorgeous, Grizz. In so many ways.

Grizz………… said...

Robin…

Thank you…always.

Jayne said...

What a very beautiful photo and a reminder to be in the moment. We truly don't know how many we'll have left. :c)

Grizz………… said...

Jayne…

Thank you—it's just a "straight" shot of the river as viewed upstream yesterday evening; a moment of wonderful light. And it's true, we don't know how much time we have, which is a great blessing in that such a fact should compel us to always live in the moment, to live our lives with joy and wonder and love.

Gail said...

HI GRIZZ - oh my, you words consume me blended with the beautiful image. The truths, glory and wisdom in this moment that you have presented are divine in nature, faithful and powerful. "Thank you" for your shared wisdom.
Love Gail
peace....

Grizz………… said...

Gail…

I'm certainly not wise…just occasionally thoughtful. I'm glad you liked the post. It was a lovely twilight.

Sorry about your aunt. I have no aunts or uncles remaining, on either Mom's or Dad's side—though most were once practically daily fixtures in my life.

The Weaver of Grass said...

I love October with all its colours Grizz but we have only had two or three fine days over the summer and last week had terrible flooding - so were not sorry to say goodbye to September. Lovely photograph.

Grizz………… said...

Weaver…

October is one of my favorite months, too—though I really like November, and I know I'm probably in a minority in that respect. For us, this year—and certainly considering the long, incredibly hot and dry spring and summer we've endured—September has been a relief, cooler, wetter, at least a taste of the weather we've so sorely missed. Not an unwelcome month.

Wanda..... said...

A Waning Moon and the waning of time....such a peaceful comparison, which I related to. No river scene to grace my evening views, but from the front porch, the trees on the far eastern side of the field glow in the sun at the end of the day, after earlier casting a red glow on a patch of dogwood out back. Little moments that mean a lot!

Grizz………… said...

Wanda…

Time wanes for all of us—from the second of our birth onward. And that's not a bad or depressing thing, just the nature of life…a life all our own to be lived as gracefully and honorably and bravely as possible. Easier to say, sometimes, than to accomplish…I know. But I also know it isn't usually the big events in our life that truly matter; rather, it the little moments that immeasurably make it rich. You understand that perfectly.

KGMom said...

I join the chorus commenting on the lovely lovely scene.
What I like about September is what I call the chardonnay light--just that certain tinge of yellow in the light. Love it!

Scott said...

Now that I'm 60, such thoughts cross my mind all the time, Grizz. I absolutely love October, but how many more will I have a chance to enjoy and appreciate?

When the Beaver Moon rolls around, you're going to have to post about how that moon got its name. I've got a small book of 12 monthly essays by Merrill C. Gilfillan called "Moods of the Ohio Moons: An Outdoorsman's Almanac." I re-read each month's essay as it comes around.

Grizz………… said...

KGMom…

I love your "chardonnay light," which is simply perfect.
And it is such lovely light, different than the light of October and November—and, yes, with a slight yellowish tinge. For me, November's light is the finest of the three months…but that's just a preference. They're all different, all wonderful in their own right.

Grizz………… said...

Scott…

Autumn is nature's metaphor for aging—and the thoughtful can't help but occasionally consider that their allotment of autumns is finite…which surely makes each and every one that much more precious.

I knew Merrill Gilfillan slightly, in his latter years, but also remember reading him in the old "Ohio Conservation Bulletin"—a long gone and much lamented publication for which he served as editor, and which my father subscribed to back in the 1950s. He's buried not far from here, in a little country village cemetery. "Moods of the Ohio Moons" is on my bookshelf, and I've turned to it and enjoyed his month-by-month descriptions since its publication.

His son, also named Merrill Gilfillan, is a fine poet and wonderful prose stylist, with a number of books of nature essays; one of my very favorite writers. I think I have every book of his. Fact is, I reread "The Warbler Road" a couple of weeks ago. "Chokecherry Places," "Magpie Rising," "Burnt House to Paw Paw," "Rivers and Birds," etc.—you'd probably enjoy any one, and the others, too.