Late Summer is in the air with ever so subtle changes happening all around.
I am beginning to notice delicate shifts of color from the rich and vibrant tints toward darker tones. Hues that looks slightly faded and worn... worn indeed, beaten down from the now intense summer heat that has grasped hold of the Plains. The newness is long gone and the linger signs of a fresh Spring, then early Summer have come to an end.
Although I find myself hibernating, almost like a bear until the sun begins to set on the horizon, I don't mind this changing season.
I use to dislike Summers very much when I was a child all the way through my young adulthood.
Yet as I have settled into myself, I have embraced this time of year with more fervor... desperately trying to soak up it's bounty and fullness.
Learning to be still and listen... to the faint sounds of locust nesting in harvested wheat fields, hearing the reverberations of the grasses and leaves bending and swaying in the hot wind. Melancholy tunes of the Song Thrush fill the air of these late afternoons, and I stand quietly trying to remember these moments with eyes shut, and face thrust forward into the never ending breeze, the breath of this earth.
The year is half over, and I wonder how this can be, for only yesterday it was a new day in January with ice and snow and cold. Now here we are almost to the end of July on the downward slide toward December. The year is turning and we, too, are leaning toward a caving in.
I simply adore the Fall. I suppose if I had to choose one season to live on forever, it would be Fall. But for now, I will cling tight to the fading glory and magic of this late Summer.