Change to Come

The sky was a cloudless blue this afternoon, a deep, rich blue, unlike the harsher, hazier blue of summer. A pale quarter of a moon hung above the treetops, tentative and wispy. The pond was quiet (save two ducks), and I thought of the words of naturalist Edwin Way Teale as he observed a late September day in the 1950s:

I can sense a change, a shift in balance, a premonition of swifter change to come.

(Circle of the Seasons)

I, too, sensed this shift, this change. Winds blew steadily (a "gentle breeze" according to the Beaufort Scale), causing the reeds and grasses to bow and sway. The pond rippled in reply. Mary Poppins might sweep in at any moment.

Winds in the east
Mist coming in
Like somethin' is brewin'
And 'bout to begin.

That somethin' is autumn, and I'm as happy about it as Jane and Michael Banks having a tea party on the ceiling.

At the same time, I found myself taking in "the lasts" around me as I walked today. I've had my eye on the Queen Anne's Lace for a few weeks now, and only one or two white stalks remain. The others have cupped themselves into little brown bird's nests, bidding a farewell to the blazing days of summer.
This "weed" always reminds me of Anne of Green Gables, with Diana tenderly tucking a sprig into Anne's definitely auburn hair.

This is the very last of the Queen Anne's Lace for the summer.

And you know what that means. The glorious, definitely auburn days are just around the corner.