Deep Summer

     

In my part of the country, it's already well into a time of year I think of as "deep summer."  The leaves have all gone from their joyous shades of green to a spent-looking black emerald.  The flowers, although still mostly brilliant, are showing signs of fading to more muted, classy colors of autumn.  The nearby crops are nearing their peak of perfection, anticipating the harvest that is soon to come.  Whitetail deer are running rampant, seemingly eager to jump in front of any vehicle moving at a high velocity.   Below-average overnight temperatures are leaving behind thick morning fog that cloaks the emerald hillsides in a downy mist. 

     The color of the sky changes to a more brilliant blue, accessorized by full, puffy white clouds. Even the sun seems to be taking a slightly more southerly track across the sky.  Canadian Geese are beginning to put on their annual show, forming themselves into the familiar accent marks, pointing the way toward life-sustaining warmth.  Summer is dying a little more as each day passes, gently escorting us to the next season. 

     Although I may have noticed bits and pieces of these changes in previous years, I have never really had the opportunity to fully enjoy noticing them all together.  I've always been busy being either a student or teacher since the age of 4.  It's amazing to me how all of these changes go on right in front of us, yet we never really think much of it.  It just happens and the next thing we know, we are putting on coats, hats, scarves, gloves and boots, trudging out into biting cold winds and the occasional snowfall.

    In autumn, we enjoy the leaves changing colors and falling off the trees, of course.  But the more subtle changes come and go without being observed by most of us.  When exactly did the sound of singing birds get replaced by the humming of insects?  When did the brittle brown start to take over the succulent green on the cornstalks?  When did the nighttime haze in the sky start to erode away, leaving behind highly polished, brilliant stars?  All of these changes happen, like clockwork, every year.  Sometimes a little earlier, sometimes a little later, but they always happen. 

     It's a magical thing, really.  I'm thankful I get to notice and appreciate all of these changes this year.  At the same time, it makes me realize there is so much more I take for granted.  But I'm not going to dwell on what I might be missing.  It's best to just go through the coming months and years with a heightened awareness and enjoy the new revelations as they come to me.