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To Everything There is a Season

This morning I woke to a smattering of leaves, fallen on the driveway. They are the first stitches of the fall quilt that will soon blanket everything. I made new hummingbird food for the feeder, which may be the last of the season. The last brood of bluebirds have been very active, the juvenile birds flapping their wings, beaks wide open waiting to be fed.

There are signs of the approaching fall everywhere, yet life still struggles to hang on. While the dogwoods change color and their berries turn red, little wildflowers make their way to the surface, determined to be seen, yet so small they are easily overlooked.

I welcome fall, but there is a particular melancholy that floats through the air like the last butterfly of the season. It is the acknowledgement that life moves on, everything having its own season. I am very aware of the feeling as I feel the loss of a summer lost to the virus. When I think we have lived in this uncertainty for a full season, it seems unfathomable.

It feels like the months that follow after losing a loved one. The loss heavy on your senses, changing the taste and smell of everything. The uncertainty of tomorrow while trying to hang on to what once was. Will life ever be the same?

I long for my family. To share a cup of coffee, or snuggle into each other to watch a movie we have seen a thousand times. There is comfort in the familiar. Knowing how the story ends leaves time for hugs and giggles and enjoying the presence of those we love.

Our blueberry bushes produced so many blueberries this year. Yesterday I made blueberry pancakes. My seven year old grandson said he missed me and remembered when he came to my house and he had pancakes with smiley faces. He feels the loss, too.

Tomorrow I will celebrate the change of seasons. Today, I sip my coffee, allowing myself to feel the heaviness of a summer lost. Just for today, I want to breathe it all in.

 

25 thoughts on “To Everything There is a Season”

  1. We have had a lot more than your smattering of leaves, as Autumn is well and truly upon us in Beetley. It has even turned quite cold, and it’s still August!
    Best wishes, Pete.

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        1. We lost power again last night for about three hours. I am sure from a downed tree. We have had over 68 inches of rain so far this year. This makes the trees so vulnerable. I hope you and Ollie are both dried out and warm now.

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  2. Great photos, Maggie. I’ve started to really notice autumn pushing its way into our days. I feel like the heat took more from us this summer than the virus did. I’m ready for the both to be gone.

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  3. A telling and wonderfully written post. So strange to imagine that we’re at the end of August, with summer winding down. This has been a curious season, indeed, even as the weekenders and day trippers have returned in more numbers than I thought, with out-of-state folks pouring into vacation rentals. It’s good for the city’s economy though — and needed.

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  4. This really was a terrific year for blueberries, both there and here. It never fails that autumn starts here with Labor Day. I have the same mixed feelings you do about missing the summer season, particularly the chance to travel.

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  5. Beautiful pictures, as always. I totally echo all your feelings. We are still well in summer…hot hot! Sounds like we might be finally getting some monsoon activity in the next few days. We will see.

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      1. Yikes! Makes everything lush and beautiful I’m sure, but dreary…..I doubt that we’ve had an inch! Sooo dry causing very high fire risk. The inequity amazes me!

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  6. Still VERY summer here in the Midwest. Soon as you open the door, you smell nectar and feel sticky. The only hint of autumn coming is a few red leaves on the burning bush.
    I predict winter will have a more dramatic effect on mental health this year. Isolation isn’t good for humans. We are all mourning various missing pieces of life. I felt that sadness in reading your post. It’s inescapable, despite a positive mindset and abundant blessings.

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    1. I woke to 70 degree temperatures this morning. It is wonderful even if the humidity is still 99%. Our winter is normally fairly mild, so I am looking forward to a change although I do acknowledge how hard the impact of solitude will be on some.

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