Autumnal Times

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Well, it happened again—summer came to its inevitable conclusion, but I don’t remember because it was all such a blur. Did September happen? The weather is fuzzy around the edges anyway, when summer becomes fall. I had a few incredible swims in early October, on a near-empty beach, water smooth as glass. Was that fall? This morning though, as I look out the window at oranges and yellows, fire crackling in the woodstove behind me, this morning it is most definitely fall.
And I don’t mind at all. There are pros alongside cons. Yes, the tomatoes are gone, but I have a fridge full of carrots. Less salads more soup. The ocean is too cold to swim laps, but the air is a perfect temperature for walking down the blueberry road near my home, crimson red and glowing. That frenetic pace of PEI summer has slowed and now I can meet a friend for lunch, I can go to the movies, I can just sit there.
Not that I just sit there very often. There are chores to do, after all, and that wood pile isn’t going to stack itself. Garlic needs a prepared bed. The mice have moved indoors for the winter and that car I meant to clean in the spring, well it’s still dirty.
Meanwhile, sitting there patiently is that writing that’s been waiting until I had more time. It is ahem-ing in my ear, gentle but persuasive. It likes to bring up that time I said “later.” Later is now, it whispers, with glee.
Now it is fall, and the darkening days are openings for the curious words to come through. They love autumnal times. And what is more autumnal than sitting at one’s desk with yellows and oranges out the window and a crackling fire in the corner?