We have entered a period of beautiful weather: warm, sunny and windless. The lake has been like a millpond.
But there’s something undefinably autumnal about the tone and atmosphere, as if the earth is releasing a long held breath and settling into a comfortable chair before heading into winter. The geese are eating and flocking; the leaves are starting to turn and the very air seems to be drowsing.
Penny the Walking Woman takes us through some of the first scenes of Vancouver’s autumnal show. By clicking the link above you can see more of Penny’s photos as she takes us along on her Vancouver walks.
Penticton’s lovely little Japanese garden isn’t showing yet many signs of autumn, but there’s something about the fading of the colours that are signalling it.
The trees on the adjacent path also seem to be indicating the same.
But right now, the weather is wonderful and there’s no forest fire smoke, so I plan to enjoy it as much as possible.
Summer is in its last three weeks and autumn is on the doorstep, shifting from one foot to the other as it awaits its turn. I always find this time of year to be a turning point, not just seasonally but in so many other ways, as well. In the northern hemisphere, the slower pace of summer comes to a halt as students return to school and many people either recommence work after holidays or resume a more regular work tempo.
A nearby beach.
Personally, I am transitioning as well and will retire in two months. Normally I would be back in the north (an impossibility right now regardless, since most people have been evacuated due to the forest fires), firing on all cylinders and pushing the pace, but not this August. My career-driven life of many, many years is slowing down, and although I am considering some contract work, I feel both strange and elated.
Lush summer trees.
Strange because all this is different … and elated because all this is different. There’s the slow good-bye, the considerations of what comes next … many things to which I’ve been looking forward. Still, I feel a bit contradictory: like I should be much busier than I am, even though I don’t need to be and don’t want to be. It might take a little time to regroup and become this new life.
Late-summer anemones.
Like it is for everything and everyone else in the northern hemisphere right now, autumn is on my doorstep. It’s both a beautiful time and a sad time, but it’s also my time.