Autumn In The Air

A few minutes past nine o'clock tonight Autumn begins at out house on a ridge in the Piedmont woods southeast of Atlanta. In spite of the heat I know the season is about to change. The evenings cool comparatively quickly and the humidity rises after midnight instead of steaming us as on most summer days. In addition the hummingbirds are more aggressive than usual around the feeder as they migrate to the Florida coast and the great passage over the Gulf of Mexico to their winter home. In contrast the several pairs of cardinals we know don't thrash among the tropicals around our porch. In part, I suppose they're no longer as territorial now that their broods have fledged. Perhaps the biggest change in the season is its sound. For one the tree frogs are quiet now that summer showers have ended and we're in the midst of the driest eight weeks of the year. In addition we no longer have the sunset symphony of cicadas, katydids, and other insects at our door. In late September they are confined to the deeper woods at the top of the ridge and their sounds drift down to the porch. I'll soon miss their sound but at least our conversations with friends on the porch will no longer be drowned out by the accompaniment.

Today may welcome in another autumn but our high temperature is expected to reach a near-record 94 degrees and the humidity already feels more like a measure reserved for the Rockies and the central Continental Divide rather than the rolling Appalachian Piedmont. In other wordsit's a stunningly beautiful summer day unless you looked at the calendar. The tulip poplar leaves already show a hint of yellow but they're hanging on for the first windy cool front to bring them down. Looking in our woods today you'd really see nothing but a rich green. Though summer may linger lovingly here in the Lower South we know Autumn brings its own pleasures.

To Autumn

O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stain'd

With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit

Beneath my shady roof; there thou may'st rest,

And tune thy jolly voice to my fresh pipe,

And all the daughters of the year shall dance!

Sing now the lusty song of fruits and flowers.

'The narrow bud opens her beauties to

The sun, and love runs in her thrilling veins;

Blossoms hang round the brows of Morning, and

Flourish down the bright cheek of modest Eve,

Till clust'ring Summer breaks forth into singing,

And feather'd clouds strew flowers round her head.

'The spirits of the air live in the smells

Of fruit; and Joy, with pinions light, roves round

The gardens, or sits singing in the trees.'

Thus sang the jolly Autumn as he sat,

Then rose, girded himself, and o'er the bleak

Hills fled from our sight; but left his golden load.

                                                                                    William Blake (1757-1827)

And so here's to fall, the color, the refreshment of cool breezes, pumpkins, mulled cider, and the smell of wood smoke. Perhaps it's a quieter time but there is much to be done. Take it at your own pace and enjoy.