I have been in denial. About a week ago, I noticed the leaves of the vine maple and the Virginia creeper starting to turn brilliant shades of crimson. The grasses in the pasture are golden, the night air is cooler, the leaves are starting to fall. This morning, a heavy fog blanketed the pasture and although it has since lifted from the ground, the mountains that surround my beautiful area are obliterated still. I can deny it no longer - the smell of fall is in the air, the evidence is all around.
Fall usually taps on the window of my world just around the time I head back to work, the third week of August. But she has come early this year - and I only hope it bodes well for a long, long fall (one of my two favourite seasons) and is not a harbinger of an early and difficult winter.
Each season has its own special beauty here in rural southwestern British Columbia, but I think none is more beautiful than fall, when nature is garbed in golds and reds. As I trudge to the barn in the grey dawn and the damp, and mourn the loss of summer, I take time to drink in the beauty of the everchanging landscape. And once again, I feel truly blessed. It is a beautiful world, no matter what the season.
Maple leaves in rain
The first red leaf of Virginia Creeper (July 26/08)