This morning is very cool and crystalline. We’ve had some rain and the vegetation has responded nicely, giving rise to a green landscape with hits of autumn. Sadly, we remain in serious drought and what rain we receive is too little and too late to help farmers salvage this growing season. Hopefully, we will receive more rain before the trees shut down for the winter; this might allow the trees to recover enough to get through the cold months.
The sun now rises considerably to the south of its zenith and soon the north side of the house will receive no early morning light. Already we are sleeping until 6:30 or even seven, far later than our mid-summer awakening time. I’ve agreed to a 7:30 meeting in mid-October with some well deserved apprehension.
Our wildflower garden has entered the almost totally yellow stage. One of the most striking of the plants is an unusual goldenrod with drooping clusters of flowers. It towers over the various members of the daisy family, the tallest individuals being close to four feet high.
This week I finally gave in and reinstalled Windows on my desktop. I’ve put it off for many months, hoping for a miraculous reversion to something like normal. As expected I spent more time than I wished reinstalling programs, and it seems likely I will discover at some point that I am still missing some.
Nori the cat has settled into a routine of play, mousing, eating, sleeping, and some cuddles. The play part has become a major portion of our daily routine, which is both sweet and more than a little exhausting. We’re glad she feels comfortable enough to play, something we suspect was not true of her life as a kitten.
I’m reading The Stubborn Light of Things, a nature diary by Melissa Harrison. It’s a lovely read that reminds me of her podcasts by the same name, weekly updates that were a balm during the worst days of the pandemic. One of the surprising things I have learned from the book is that London is now a national park. Last nigh I was speaking with a former Londoner who was surprised to hear that.
Now that we have reached mid-September we are losing about three minutes of sunlight a day. While that does not seem like much, the days will have shortened by an hour and a half by the end of the month. Soon the green world will respond to our shortening days and cooler temperatures by dying back for the winter. Right now, though, we remain on the cusp between summer and winter while the world seems to stop for a breath before plunging fully into the cold season.
Dreaming the World 
What a beautifully written piece about the changing season. Wonderful descriptions that hold true for Maine, too. I will be checking out The Stubborn Light of Things.
Thank you, Laurie! This morning I found myself missing the cooler, wetter weather of norther Vermont autumn. Our move down here, and climate change, have truly upset my sense of timing and place.
Same in Maine. I’ve decided that September is the new August. Quite the change from even ten or fifteen years ago, much less than when I was young girl.
Yes, so much change! I think it is inconceivable for those who have not lived thru it. My mom used to talk about immense flocks of birds and I could not begin to grasp what she was seeing. Now I look back to my version of immense flocks…..