The calendar tells me it’s the first day of September. The weather tell me otherwise. The temperature predicted for the next several days also suggests otherwise.
The only notification of the accuracy of the calendar are the days which have been slowly depleted of sunlight. As the days grow shorter, I am reminded they will continue to do so until the amount of light throughout the day is equal to the amount of darkness.
Summer marches out and Fall is rapidly approaching.
The cicadas noisy concert plays continuously throughout the day; background music for the warm temperatures. The number of cicadas has slowly grown smaller. Despite their continuous concert their noisy enthusiasm wanes as do their numbers. The vigor from their song is also a reminder the end of summer is rapidly approaching.
Occasionally a rogue cicada raises its voice above the others. His voice demonstrating the ferocity with which he is clinging to life and looking for a mate. Their voices appear to rebut the coming end of summer.
Squirrels are now seen with more regularity. Their playfulness continues but there also appears to be a more concerned purpose; that of finding food to last throughout the winter. The squirrels appear to be increasingly bold in their search for nesting materials and food. Sitting in my chair in the yard I hear a sound, look up and notice I am being watched from just a few feet above my head. The squirrels know too summer is rapidly drawing to an end and will soon be followed by its cousin, fall.
In addition to the days growing dark far to early, there is a noticeable chill in the air. I find myself waking briefly in the middle of the night by a chill which can only be vanquished by reaching for a blanket.
There is a tree just a short walk from my home. This tree appears to lack understanding of the changing seasons or at the very least it does not adhere to the dates of the calendar. This tree marches to the beat of a very different drummer. It’s leaves begin to change color and fall well before it’s neighbors as if to run a race to which others have not been invited.
Fall is upon us. We have no choice but to greet and accept its arrival. Denial is futile as we have no control over its arrival. It is best not to fight but to accept its presence and to make it the best neighbor.
In my thoughts remains the promise of a new day. Each day I express my gratitude for another day granted.