Somewhere Between Summer and Fall

The summer chorus of nature is gently transforming into an autumn symphony. Have you noticed? The music stage once belonged solely to the frogs and the crickets, but now the baritone locusts have joined in to deliver a rich autumnal sound. The winds have traded their bright woodwind tones for a thin papery chorus. The rains are softening their fierce thunders, opting instead for the long, hollow, haunted drenches of fall.

And I noticed last week that the summer bugs had quietly slipped away one day when I wasn't watching. Once in a while, though, an untimely visitor still appears; a brave little lightning bug flashing a dramatic message or a lazy dragonfly with splendid blue wings comes by to put on a show. What music they hear I cannot imagine, but it must be a beautiful melody to spawn such a lovely dance. 

The gardens, green and alive all summer, are drying up brown and gold. They are mustering all the life they can find to mount one final showdown against their mortal enemies, the weeds. The tomatoes, blood-red and gangly, report for service, and the peppers push out one final round of blooms. The green beans and corn and cucumbers have already given all and lay spent and thin in the next row. A few tomatoes, green and young, don't know the end is coming, and innocently lay in the sun, coloring up a little more each day.

It's that in-between time when Fall is pushing its way in, but Summer won't leave. Fall teases us with cool mornings, but Summer jumps in while we eat our lunches, pushes up the mercury, and laughs. Fall waves its colorful wand and anoints a choice tree with red highlights. Summer answers with a violent thunderstorm to remind us this is still her season. Fall covers the foliage, brown and dry and quiet, so it can rejuvenate and make ready for spring. But summer's viny long fingers hang on, bossy, green, and persistent.

Summer and Fall are engaging in their annual tug-of-war. Summer comes out strong, but Autumn is steady and relentless, a formidable enemy. I thought Summer had the win, but Autumn held tighter and tighter. I can see now that she has no intention of letting go, and she's sweeping me along in her wake. I'm trying to remember what came before this momentous fight, and suddenly it comes to me. Spring.

I once knew Spring but my memory of her is fading; it was she who gave me birth and taught me to navigate life. Spring was gentle and kind, and at just the right time, placed me in the arms of Summer.

Summer was sharp and demanding, alluring and sensual. She whipped my legs with her young green switches, all the while drenching me with her flowered perfumes. Summer made me strong and tough and gave me weapons of softness, power, and beauty to take on the world. I emerged confident and bold and strong, a mighty warrior and a force to be reckoned with. But in the end, Summer carries no allegiance. I watched as she fooled those who came before me, and I vowed it wouldn't happen to me. But it did.  Summer is smart and deceitful. She made me think she would be with me forever. She didn't tell me about Fall.

She didn't tell me how Fall creeps in, quiet and peaceful, relentless and aging. Fall...stealing everything green and confident, covering me in brown leaves, urging me to rest, just for a while. Fall, leading me toward Winter.

Fall is winning the tug-of-war. Summer is waging a valiant effort, though we both know who's going to win. It's as inevitable as the seasons.

Right now, I am somewhere in between, but Fall is coming for me.