Mornings lately are foggy. Not from lack of sleep but a sign we have crossed into the second part of summer when nights are cooler and the valley we live in fills with morning fog. It has been a glorious summer, even if dry, and right on schedule I find myself wishing it would last four more months instead of only two! But the realistic part of me already looks ahead to the perfect slowing down that is coming, all in good time of course.
The birds are flocking to devour the fruit of the Black Cherry tree, glistening and transparent, and wasps and bees quickly buzz onto the tomatoes I’m eating outside at lunch. Baby birds learn their way in the world, some successfully, others not so. Nearly every leaf of nearly every tree or plant has a hole or two in it or a chewed edge or brown spot—a gigantic lunch provided by chlorophyll and sunshine. The colors of Sumac and Red Maple are beginning to peek through the deep green of summer here and there. Though the sun is lower there is still plenty to dry the clothes and heat our water and somehow it feels better than ever when mixed with the deep shade under a tree.
Despite the grim news we seem to be fed every day—have we become addicted?—the world turns at the same slow pace it has since long before our time, and one that will continue long after I am gone. I’ll take it moment by moment and enjoy the chill in the air of this foggy morning until the sun burns through and the day warms up to the point of being hot enough to swim in the river.