End of summer

Autumn Haiku

Sunlight slants
In the garden
Leaves prepare to fall


There is a wistful quality to the fall, when nature begins the return to dormancy, to rest from its unbounded growth of the summer, when the cicadas finally stop singing their relentless heat mongering drone, and the change of light signals just how powerful its influence is over us all.

I like the autumn season.  It makes me want to cook warm unctuous things that nurture the spirit and mimics the light, the change.  I turn to recipes of biscuits and creamed squash, and want to surround myself in orange and gold, bringing out new towels for the kitchen and new seasonal arrivals like pumpkins and gourds.

But here in Texas it is a little soon. Hot afternoons of 97 degrees hardly say sweater, and yet there is this presence in the air, a softer light in the southern sky and the knowing of the body that says to get ready, as if a guest is about to arrive and will want to share some stories, ones that we have heard each year before, perhaps some new ones to add, some new grace to be perceived.