The segue from summer to autumn always catches me by surprise. Maybe it’s that I live in Texas and September remains warm.
Beginning in August and pronounced by early September, I notice the shortening of the days. My alarm beckons me to dark mornings, which lately sparkled in sunshine. The end of the day arrives unexpectedly and my garden is swathed in darkness.
Autumn blooms are budding, but just so; foliage won’t change until late November, into December. Our second spring–the magnificent bloom period of late September, October, and November–compensates for our hellish July and August.
Inland sea oats, Chasmanthium latifolium, are some of the first to herald change, the promise of autumn. Even if it’s not yet autumn.
And I notice.
I’m also remembering that day, in 2001: the blue sky, then smoke and avalanche. The broken planes, the buildings rubbled. Remembering those who died and those who helped, and lamenting so much of what’s happened since.
Joining today with Anna and her Wednesday Vignette. Check out her beautiful Flutter and Hum for musings of various sorts.