I noticed it the night we drove home from Maine.
8:30 pm, rain pouring down, headlights pushing through intermittent mist and fog as we navigated the backroads of Marshfield and Calais.
And then again this morning, my alarm clock rising me at 5:15 to a dark room, despite the curtainless windows. I pushed snooze and pulled the covers over me, burrowing down into blankets.
The days are waning.
It happened so suddenly—I’m in the midst of August when all at once the night comes earlier, the morning later. Autumn falls onto summer’s doorstep in a heap of cold air.
Now, at 6:15, dawn is done yawning and given itself over to a gentle blue sky. August days do what they can to remind me it’s still summer—that it will indeed be swimming weather this week, and there are bushels of beans, peas, potatoes, tomatoes, and more that need picking.
The sunflowers, too, stand in unison, their face to the house as the sun rises over the ridge, announcing another summer day. Don’t ease up yet, they say. There’s still blooming to do.
So I stretch, pull on my fleece, and head out to set up the wash station for morning harvest. I say goodmorning to the sunflowers, ask the elderberries to ripen a bit faster, and hear them reply that the beans are ready so why not start with them?
Everything in its own time.
Autumn will take hold soon enough, blooms will turn to seeds, and the fields will need more pulling than planting. In the meantime, bloom, harvest, eat.
1 thought on “The Waning Days of August”
For me it’s been a sharp shift, too, and makes me think of all the years going back to school.. driving in that mist that burns off on top of the hill, the need for a sweater that’ll be shed rapidly as the day heats up.. I’m wearing my wool sox for the first time this morning & just finished knitting a light wool poncho that’s the perfect morning comfy. It’s all so beautiful it takes my breath away, makes me stop and look and smell.. A gorgeous time of year! xxxooo