Call of the Wild

William Ternes

As we walked down the back lane to our house, it turned Fall today.

I could tell because the leaves had started to shift colors, just a little here, just a little there.
Brightening red plumes amidst the browning of summer.

Today we meandered.
It was not a time for power walking, or jogging, or running or talking.
It was a time for relaxing, remembering and reflecting.
It was a time for ... walking sticks and good, firm shoes.


Even the dog dawdled, sniffing, head in air, then sniffing, nose to ground, smelling the musty, earthy smells of autumn along the edge of the dusty lane.

Rain was in the air. You could smell it.

The warm summer breeze was long gone.  A cool, soon-to-crystalize autumn breath replaced it, barely ruffling our hair as we went along.

Overhead, we heard the cry of the first Canadian Geese heading south.
We looked up and to each other, smiling a little at the familiar call and what it meant.
We were making the transition into autumn.

Sometimes we look forward to the end of the summer season. It's hot, it's muggy, there are people, cars and congestion. It's hard to concentrate when it goes from 0 to 60 in the fast lane of resort life. And when it's over, we breathe a sigh of relief. We remember why we moved here.

For simpler times, slower ways.
Soup for supper, newspaper and knitting after.

Today it's just us.
So we walk. It's a way of slowing down without too much fuss.
A way to change gears, catch a breath, reboot, if you will.

Even in Paradise you have to reboot.

Have a good one. :)

An Island September

Geoff Wheeler

The island in September.
Breezes, cool and comforting -
The air "brims with smells to feel."


Crisp leaves ready for the crackle of Fall,
Sooty odors, burning bush and twigs.

Salt waves, briny, textured with mermaid's hair - brown and gold and titan red,
Filled with mermen's ware -conch shells to make the siren call of winter storms.

And the deep blue sea  - not the azure of late spring or the cyan of a hot summer,
But inky - like brand new school jeans or the sapphire of night reflected back, diamond tops sparkling.
  

Anne Marie Brown/MVTimes

The purple-gray softness of September morning haze -  moonstone and lavender - milky and smooth, sweet and pungent - plays on a sparkling surface,
the soft blanket of memories to climb under and remember.






And the flowers.
Oh, the flowers.

Like the last hurrah of summer -  colors vibrant, fragrance heady,
readying for a departing summer,

                          Turning into the golden-red light of Fall.

 Ah, September.









Have a good one, call your mother and put your sweaters on. :)