On Saturday the first falling leaves spiraled down on a light breeze. My grandsons ran across the back yard trying to catch the yellow ones with butterfly nets. They did get a few, let them go and tried for more until they spotted a few last butterflies and took off after them. They never did manage to catch a butterfly. Instead moved on to trying to kick a ball over the roof, or hit a post, or run faster than the dog. They are tired out before dusk and their sleep is sound and deep.
I lie awake for a long time, tired but not sleepy. I am thinking of the shifting season, another birthday, another year about to turn as Rosh Hashanah approaches. I love the cool evenings and mornings, the welcome sun at mid-day. I watch the way the woods open, the brambles recede, the spaces between the trees grow wider making paths for me to walk.
Autumn is in many ways my favorite time of year. It holds beginnings and endings braided together. The close of summer, which always seems like time out of time for me, the days stretching so long that I am often left longing for night. The start of a new year offers the chance to renew. The equinox bringing the word briefly into balance as everything moves towards the true bare outline of itself.
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