It also feels like a little celebration to me when the brown transferware gets its day in the sun again. I appreciate it all year long of course, but autumn always feels like its rightful place in the world. And I do use different pieces in fall than in spring and summer for some reason.
As usual, the summer days just slipped away, but not without my taking notice of each bunny, bird, and butterfly that crossed my path when I managed my pre-dawn jaunts to avoid the intense heat of the high desert even in a waning season. There can be so much joy in all small things.
In my part of town, a semi-rural community, each day brings a subtle but notable difference. A few more yellow cottonwood leaves here and there, the corn fields growing more golden every morning, the flocks of Canadian Geese flying over in greater numbers on my evening walks. It's time to start gathering acorns and pinecones and Sycamore leaves.
On the official last day of summer, a mild evening brought a slight cool breeze. Distant clouds filled with color as the sun found its way to the western horizon. The fields had been freshly mown, and a piled row of alfalfa at the edge tempted me to sit for a few moments to observe an unusual number of swallows that swirled over the heads of geese nestled feeding in the grass.
I was mesmerized as the flock moved overhead, and sat many long moments as the birds flew high and then low, far and then near again, circling and whirling. Their great number made me feel as though something significant was happening in the gathering dusk.
A pleasing breeze played at my hair, and I felt at one with the whole moving scene until I began to notice the crowds overhead were thinning and slowly disappearing south beyond my sight. I felt such nostalgia as I discerned what turned out to be true: the birds had been feeding and gathering for their final flight of the year to their winter destination somewhere beyond where I would go. I called quietly out loud to the last of the departing swarm, "Goodbye! Goodbye!," while strangely, deeply moved to witness such a moment in time just by chance.
The swallows are gone from my daily walks. I would have noticed eventually if it ever reached my thoughts in my daily meditations in the field. But I do appreciate, once again, how important it is to leave room, make room, for the momentous in each day, whenever it may choose to arrive.
My best wishes to you in this new season.
Yours,
Jacqueline
