It’s a quiet morning in the North Country. Song birds twitter from the fence line, the riverbank, the hedgerow, breaking the silence. Morning devotions finished, I listen intently to their whistles and chirps. They are my only companions this day. I am content to keep quiet company.
There is a heaviness in the air. Early morning sunshine is fading fast to gray. There’s a storm coming, for sure. There is something unsettled in me, too. I am not sure the source. All week long I have been trying to listen closely, to sort it out. It has been elusive.
Most of the summer I have been busy, busy, busy with houseguests and patio parties. It was often a challenge to keep up with the overlap and overflow. It has been a summer of abundance, of celebration, of catching up, and good conversation. It has been joyful, flush with happy memories.
The muggy intensity of July has passed. Nights are cool again. How easily we slip into past tense for summer. “It feels like fall,” we comment, over plates laden with fresh sweetcorn in all its piping hot and buttery goodness. Our apple tree hangs heavy with fruit. The trail to the woods must be thick with ripe blackberries.
But I remind myself that we have another month of summer, at least. No need to hurry the onset of the next season. Savor this one.
It is quiet now. I am still. And I am listening.
~ René Morley