Hold On There, Fall

The summer wasn’t long enough this year. We were just finding our groove with boating and beaching; swimming in the lake without fear of hypothermia; golf swings that actually looked intentional; exploring the nearby peaks that weren’t consumed by fire.

Then the leaves decided to put on their fall color performance before the official first day of autumn. The oranges and reds of the maples and oaks are making a strong showing on our little mountainside, but the aspens are the real showstoppers—yellow and gold winding through the dark evergreens.

Spectacular.

The hummingbirds have moved on to their winter homes—a ridiculously long journey for such tiny creatures. I’m leaving the half-full feeders up for a few more days, just in case a straggler or two needs one last fill-up.

The turkeys seem nervous, moving quickly out of range whenever humans appear. Apparently, they know what comes next.

The garden is sputtering now, refusing to put any more energy into ripening tomatoes.

The box elder bugs formed a chaotic army on the south-facing windows, presumably gathering strength before storming the house and assuming control during the months of unfavorable weather soon to come.

Thankfully, Bob “managed” them.

He managed them real good.

Cash is the only one of us fully ready for fall—and soon after, winter. It’s tough being a thick-furred black dog under a hot sun. Swimming in the lake provided some relief, at least until the anxiety of not being able to feel solid ground underfoot kicked in.

And so, this fall is like most beginnings and endings.

We don’t get to choose the timing or the speed.

We just find ways to manage.

A different kind of management from bug warfare.