small wonders

Hello Autumn,
I do believe you have arrived. We can see you in the piles of squash and the garden going to seed, in the little boys in wool hats on the swing set and the leaves just beginning to turn. Your scent always takes us by surprise-  high bush cranberries and the first wafts of wood stove smoke.

I am always glad to see you, though there is always a little melancholy, a little apprehension. Did we do enough out there? How much more can we squeeze in before the cold really takes hold? When do we let go and settle back, and just let it come?

And how long do we have, Autumn, before the cold is truly here to stay? Should I bring in these heaps of green tomatoes, for instance, and hope they will ripen inside? Or will you give us just a little more time? 

We felt you coming this weekend, and packed the boys and the swimsuits into the car after supper for one last warm(ish) swim in the lake. It felt like we were bidding farewell to a beautiful summer, a last splashy hurrah to this glorious season. But it was a welcoming too- a welcoming to the cool winds and quieter days, to apples and pumpkins and wool on the needles and books by the fire and good autumn meals.

Come in autumn, and stay awhile, if you may. We are glad you have come.