Goodbye, summer. For me it was always you; you with the fireflies and warm evenings and damp grass. The smell of the air. Dirt and flowers, leaves and distant smoke. But in the air too, is death, of plant matter and animals lost. And skunks far away and tires and trash burning. And cow manure, rich and coiling when close by, but together, all combine into the sweetest, delicate perfume. A perfume of promise, of returning life, and comfort of knowing the crops will come in, there will be food today and always. New growth of old things, and mushrooms and fungus taking away the old carbon for new, breaking bonds we know but cannot see. And the mystery of the chemiluminescence of the lightening bugs and its magic in the air. And its there, all around, like a blanket, and comfort. As the season changes, and this cool spell reminds me, the blanket floats away, is blown gently or torn completely away, and another season creeps its way in, and the fireflies die. And the leaves fall, and the perfume of the earth gives way to a more urgent smell of decay. And the grass is brittle. And the smoke on the breeze changes from outside wood bonfires to a mix of coal and oil and it isnt by choice, these new flames, it is by need. To replace the summer blanket with a blanket of cotton or wool, and a blanket from a furnace to chase away the chill. And the comfort of the summer blanket of magic lights and complex perfume leaves in its place the urgent reminder of age and time. The pumpkins arent comfort enough, and the wind will blow away the promise and soon it will be cold. And dead. And dormant. And the light fades each day till we are left with the longest nights. Fall is a beautiful liar, on some of its best days, but it is a liar. The sweatshirts and long pants belie the truth of encroaching snow suits and gloves. In each evening, and the glow of the setting sun, I dread the coming dark. But today, and hopefully, each day, I will take the memory of the perfume and the lights and the comfortable evenings and use them to ward of the sadness and ache of winter cold and lifeless gray that will soon be upon us.
Posted on: Sun, 14 Sep 2014 13:21:21 +0000
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