For weeks I’ve said to myself, “Autumn is going to come early this year.” And every time I’ve squashed down that knowing because, oh, I don’t know, the calendar says otherwise (even though I don’t tell the passing of seasons by calendar), it’s 100 degrees, summer has only just begun in these mountains, winter’s footprints still marking the highest, that things are staying greener longer than usual, the crickets haven’t even begun their ode to summer lullabies, the very heartbeat of sultry, languid summer nights, and oh, 99 other reasons that are right before my eyes. But that’s the thing about seasons. I sense them before I see them. And of course they don’t suddenly change on four precise days of the year. There are countless seasons within a season, some merely lasting a day. Since I can remember I’ve equated the fairy-like thistle seeds floating through the air as a first sign of summer casting a far away look toward autumn. I start to see them in mid to late August. But I saw them yesterday. Elderflower to elderberry, I held the first indigo black bunches in my hand this morning. And I saw two flocks of geese taking to the skies. Not flying south exactly, nor merely hopping fields, but stirred up, on the move. Autumn is going to come early this year. ↟ ↟ ↟ ↟ ↟ ↟ ↟ ↟ ↟
#orchard #summerevening #pnw #pacificnorthwest #washington #payingattention #getoutside #outdoors #seasons #light #thegoldenhour #nature #outsideeveryday 
