a word on this spontaneous lovely day

The first day of autumn comes in two days. But for today, despite the yellowing leaves and subtle chill in the wind, the sun still thinks it's August. It's gorgeous outside.

Even with winter looming, I love this season. The field is harvested and open. The forest has the delicious spicy smell of rot. Geese scatter the skies in loose V-shapes. Mourning Cloaks can be seen fluttering among the falling leaves. This is autumn. A season of transitions.

This time of year reminds me that change can be good. Like the leaves, sometimes it's time to let things fall as they may. Like the harvest, sometimes it's time to purge what you've collected. Like the many creatures preparing for winter, sometimes it's time to prepare yourself.

Change is good. I choose to face mine. Like autumn, I run on toward winter.

little cat

Have I ever introduced you to my little cat, Clarice? I love her--I've never loved a cat before. She even comes when called.

after the last summer fire goes out

Hello friends. How was your summer? Here, in my part of the world, summer has begun its slow transition into fall. I've only just started saying my goodbyes.

Last week, on the last day of August, K and I decided to have one more summer fire. The sun was down by 9:30, so we stoked up with only the distant glow of the city to guide us. As we drank up the last of our hoppy IPAs, little streaks of aurora slid down the horizon behind the firelight. As it got darker, we could even make out the subtle stripe of the Milky Way. It was a gorgeous night--no mosquitos, no clouds, no distractions. Only the fire and the surrounding night.

All that day, we had hiked around Elk Island National Park. Not mountainous, not particularily special, but full of forested trails, untouched lakes and some of the only wild bison in Canada. Quite lovely, really. Our only goal was to walk until we could walk no more. We found a bison thigh bone, collected the fallen half of a wasp nest, and had satisfyingly sore feet by the end of it. That adventure, along with the fire that followed, was the best way we could think of to bid farewell to our summer.

Now, in this new season, they've begun the first stages of harvest.

Some important things took place over these months of warmth and sun. I turned 21. I ran my second triathlon ever. I summited my second mountain ever. I attempted a forest garden. I purged my room of everything I didn't need. I saved up a lot of money. I hatched some travel plans.

And now, with summer over, I am left to antisipate the many, many things growing on my horizon. Some are overdue and unexciting, like getting a credit card; some are new and even a little scary, like booking my first flight by myself. However, for once, I am ready to face all of them. I feel grown up; ready.

Lizzie wrote the other day about accepting leadership of your life; about being unapologetic and not ambivalent, about self-discipline, about looking at the "to-do" list as less important than the "accomplished" list. Having pondered a very similar train of ideas myself this summer, I really needed to read that post. And it came at just the right time.

The combines will be back to gather the rows of reaped canola soon. Hello, autumn. Let's get crackin'.