A Change is a comin’

A few weeks ago I was out in the garden declaring war on the invasive Himalayan blackberries. Needless to say I was not in the sweetest of moods. This invasive species and I do not have a kindly relationship. I always come away from my battles with these thorny, contrary plants with scratches all over my person. As I was trying to hack out an enormous root I heard something that made me stop in my tracks. I dropped my loppers, looked up, and there, not far above my head was a V of geese heading south. As they flew they announced, "the cold winds are behind us, not far they are, and it is time to fly to where warmth awaits us.”

Something Told The Wild Geese 

Something told the wild geese

It was time to go.

Though the fields lay golden

Something whispered,-"Snow."

Leaves were green and stirring,

Berries, luster-glossed,

But beneath warm feathers

Something cautioned, -"Frost."

All the sagging orchards

Steamed with amber spice, But each wild breast stiffened

At remembered ice.

Something told the wild geese

It was time to fly,—

Summer sun was on their wings,

Winter in their cry.

~Rachel Field~

In the days that followed I heard and saw more geese flying over our farm. The poplars at the bottom of the vineyard regularly filled with murmurations of starlings. When they arrived there was such a quantity of arguing and fussing, flapping and hopping from branch in branch. Then all at once they would launch up into the sky, and I watched in wonder as the cloud of birds would flow, twist and turn in the air, moving as one. It is such a beautiful and remarkable thing to see.

As I watered the trees, weeded, and made plans for the farm, I always made a point of going up to the barn to see if the swallows were still there. This year we had four pairs who built their mud nests in the corners of rafters in the barn’s ceiling. As far as we could tell each pair successfully raised three chicks. We were able to see the little heads looking down at us when we went into the barn. We were delighted as we have not had many swallow visitors in the last few years. 
   On the 17th of September the swallows were gone, just a few days shy of the Autumn Equinox, and since then little signs have started to appear that indicated that Summer was finally slipping away, much to the my relief. 
   When I went walking, quantities of acorns crunched under my feet as I walked under some of the big oak trees. Then I started to see some of the

 trees withdrawing the green from their leaves, leaving yellow, gold and touches of red behind. 

  On the days leading up to the 29th of September (the day when the irrigation water would be turned off) I worked busily all over the farm, moving hoses here there and everywhere to give the trees and the shrubs the last big drink of irrigation water that they were going to get this year. We were lucky this year that our irrigation season lasted a long time, thanks to the wet winter spring that we had. 
  Yesterday, on the 29th, the temperature began to drop and the wind picked up, telling us that change was a comin'. Sure enough clouds drifted across the sky, and wonder of wonders, it began to rain. Just like that, Autumn arrived. 
   I opened the windows to let the lovely perfume of petrichor fill the house. Tired, stuffy summer air flew out of the windows and I gave a sigh of relief. This morning I woke up to see a duvet of fog lying in the bottom of the valley. I gave a whoop of delight. Change has truly arrived and I am more than ready for all the autumn joys that await me. 

Print by Janis Goodman