09.18.19

“September, the bed we lie in between Summer and Autumn”–Charles Wright

There are some early-bird trees showing off their colors, the air has been cool and misty, and I made my first soup of the season.  But, it’s still September–that pause month between Summer and Autumn.  Loved ones are stopping in at our house on their various Fall journeys.  The Miller family came to rest up, after Lauren and Ethan’s wedding last week-end under the full Harvest Moon, and we all got to join the honeymooners for pizza at Moose’s one night.  Tomorrow, Joy and Fletcher will be here for dinner and an overnight stay on their way to Bellingham, for the start of college.  Life is moving on for us all–lately, way too fast, it seems.   Cormac turns 12 today and is skipping school to celebrate at the Oakland A’s game with his Dad, and, on Friday, Norah turns 14.  Sigh.

I like Charles Wright’s quote about how September is a bed we can lie in.  It’s one of those times–at a certain point in life– in which we can slow down, rest, just stop time for a while, take a little time-out.  But, it is also a disquieting time.  The summer-is-over sadness sinks in, and I miss the kids swimming out to the sailboat at sunset, supper outside on the terrace each night, days which felt so long and lazy.   I miss Gary, the cat, who never returned.  The deer decimated the window box up at the kitchen window, but random clover has sprouted in the window box down by the lake, and I had a lovely cocktail hour there this evening, Chatpeau purring on my lap, as we watched and listened to the great flocks of geese flying overhead, in front of gray rain clouds.

We will be taking a trip to the sea late next week.  It’s becoming somewhat of a rite of passage for me, to go to the sea in Autumn.   We’re headed out to Seattle to watch the final A’s game of the season, and then off on the ferry to San Juan Island for a few days.  To be at the edge of the sea, and take in the endless horizon and rhythm of the waves, always offers up a new perspective about the passage of time, and my own place in the grand scheme of things.  It will be a welcome transition before the golden days of October, and, perhaps, a bit of solace, for the long, dark nights coming upon us, after the brief and momentary balance that is the Equinox.