Yesterday I was at market with Patrick and found a type of apple cider I haven't had in years. When I was a kid my dad used to buy it is huge quantities because I liked it so much. They're just these little plastic brown jugs of syrup that you mix with hot water, but they're so so good. I bought a jug of apple cinnamon syrup. This morning, I made myself one and as I sit here at my table looking out at the definitely autumn day, the smell of the cider beside my computer brings me all the way back to sitting in my parents living room in winter watching tv and being really careful not to spill as I leaned over the coffee table, balancing on my knees to take a sip. Today is a different kind of day. Its not quite autumn yet, but the leaves are starting to go yellow on some trees and though its been 30 degrees all week, its only supposed to reach 15 today. The wind is strong and chilly and the hammock is almost continually straight sideways like a giant rainbow sail. Everything seems to be moving with the wind...the christmas lights hanging from the porch, the thermometer on the steps, the yellow birdhouse that isn't all the way nailed to the tree and sways in the mix of green and yellow leaves. Everything in my view is moving except for the stone buddah Jamie left on the porch that is looking out at the road giving a peace sign.
I'm gonna miss summer. If I had to pick a favourite season, summer would be it...but my favourite time of year is the couple of weeks between seasons...any seasons. Maybe the move from summer to autumn is my favourite though. The energy is so different than any other time of year. When fall turns to winter, it brings silence and stillness and retrospection. When winter turns to spring, there's a freshness about everything but it is kind of a transition of patience. Everything seems to be a waiting game. When spring moves into summer it feels like everything goes in slow motion. Afternoons of laying in hot sun, evenings that stretch into the night and light that lingers on the horizon long after you've expected it to disappear. But when summer transitions into autumn, there's a kind of electricity, and urgency, and energy that you can feel in the wind, in the cold morning air and in the sunsets that slide away in a hurry. I like Autumn, even though it ends in winter.
I'm gonna end this post here though because I went out to feel the bite of the wind and sun and when I came in, the smell of bacon and eggs had filled the house. Patrick is at the stove and its almost time for breakfast!
I'll leave you with this...
Song for Autumn - Mary Oliver
In the deep fall
don't you imagine the leaves think how
comfortable it will be to touch
the earth instead of the
nothingness of air and the nedless
freshets of wind? And don't you think
the trees themselves, especially those with mossy
warm caves, begin to think
of the birds that will come - six, a dozen - to sleep
inside their bodies? And down't you hear
the goldenrod whispering goodbye,
the everlasting being crowned with the first
tuffets of snow? The pond
vanishes, and the white field over which
the fox runs so quickly brings out
its blue shadows. And the wind pumps its
bellows. And at evening especially,
the piled firewood shifts a little,
longing to be on its way.