When I bought a dress to wear to the event back in May, it seemed absurd to be thinking so far in advance, almost as if the end of September would never roll around.
But it did.
This past weekend we headed down to central Minnesota for the hitchin'. Before we'd really gotten our bearings, the couple was happily married and we were heading home again.
Now, there's absolutely no denying that autumn is here. When I walked home from work last night, I was shocked to discover docks anchored in the middle of our bay. The ice and snow may still be a month or two off, but the summer residents clearly already have their hearts set on warmer locations. Getting the cabin closed up for winter is a task all summer residents face; a task that involves draining pipes, shutting off pumps, and detaching docks from the shore so the ice doesn't destroy them. Soon our cabin will be the only light shining out over the bay each night.
It's not like autumn hasn't given me any warning signs. The tomato plants on the deck have been dead for nearly two weeks now and the woods have been filled with the musty, almost sweet smell of decaying leaves. But it's been such an odd month of strange work schedules and perhaps a few too many commitments, that I hadn't been paying that much attention to the changing world around me. I finally noticed that fleeting autumn light yesterday when Andy and I headed out for an early morning stroll.
It's true we're on the home stretch of the summer season. Soon that nip in the air will be downright cold. The leaves will fall; the snow will come. But until then, I plan to marvel and exclaim over the world's beauty; to take a minute and soak it all in.
