sitting outside during {one of} my favorite times of the day at {one of} my favorite times of the year. i've been taking note of the increasing number of signs that autumn is moving in. the transition of a transitional season- autumn takes us from summer to winter and is a season in it's own right, known to me as the season that takes beauty to a new level. i've written before (or at least thought it to myself!) that autumn makes beauty for the hell of it. sure, we know *why* the leaves have their many shades of reds, oranges, yellows... *why* they fall and blow tsk tsk tsk across the patio. not necessarily *why* everything seems to need sleep. rest makes more sense to our minds conditioned to make each moment count. be productive. get something practical done. or at least enjoy! ourselves, for goodness sake. and where does that leave us with sleep? with autumn?

even in warmer climates where autumn is less noticeable, there is still a changing of the flower guard. vegetables in season and out. sometimes. kale, not tomatoes. not all the time. here in the pacific northwest there is autumn- a much longer autumn than i knew growing up in wisconsin where autumn really *is* the transition to winter. a beautiful transition to a steadfast season who comes early and stays late. an uninvited guest who is nonetheless always expected.

it's this time of year that i start to wonder if the remaining tomatoes on the vine will ever be able to ripen with this left over sun. will the sunflowers not-yet-bloomed ever burst open for the bees? will there be bees left flying or will they only groggily stumble from flower to next-burst-open flower, taking one last sip of sweetness before the winds really begin to blow.

but of course. then i remember how long autumn stays. how there is plenty of time for ripening (tomato upicking hasn't even begun, i remind myself) and picking and canning and bursting and blooming. a whole pint of berries is still on the last blueberry bush! there are fall raspberries to be had and pears to be tasted. the transition to the transition, always a harvest friendly time with vegetables from then, finally ripening now.

so i sit in this. this time. and make plans for how quickly i will or will not rake the leaves this year and wonder if the neighbor will care, now that she isn't raking her own leaves. i plan canning days and dismiss other projects, wondering if the kids will need new hats and mittens and fingerless gloves. should i even make mittens? will i ever have the time? i think of framing the ones they won't wear again...

autumn brings a wistfulness, a closing down, a contented beauty. and at other times- a zing! zow! i drive down the street laughing and pointing excitedly- "would you look at that!" trees bursting now, blooming in reds, {no blues, no greens}, but golden! and oranges. of all shades. just because. a few pink flowers linger in the flower box out front, the pots in the back.

but not yet. that's later. right now the flowers bloom pink, purple, bright gold, yellow. the mint blooms peaking, with bees hovering, flying back and forth, mint, no- sunflowers!, no- cardoons! plenty for all while spiders grow in girth, getting fat on fly season, once again upon us. it keeps coming, again and again, each time like the last in flavor and quality of light. but distinct, as it always is, unique and singular in this moment. i love recognizing the signs of what is to come, what is now. in this recognition there is appreciation for this season, for the next, when i never can quite decide which i like best and realize i don't need to. each a beauty of its own, gliding slowly, then quickly, into the next.