| Sunday, September 29, 2013 | | Falling In Love | I’m remembering why I usually call this season “fall” rather than autumn. No, not because leaves are beginning to fall, with all their seasonal lessons of release and rest (is this why we “fall” asleep?) I think of autumn as fall because I’ve fallen in love in autumn; while Pete and I married in March, our first kiss was the September before. And it is usually in September that I fall in love, all over again, with this wonderful place where I live.
At the very end of August I had the chance to accompany Brian Horsley in his boat on a morning photo excursion around the Bonner bridge. We first explored some low shoals and islands in the sound west of the bridge and then went out beyond the jetty at Oregon Inlet, staying close to the shore and watching a huge flock of Black Skimmers. I try to find them with Brian or his wife Sarah every year; using the boat as a kind of blind gives a different perspective I always enjoy. We ran all the way up to Pirates Cove looking for dolphin in the sound and finally encountered pods off Wanchese.
I’ve told countless visitors, “You are here during the best weather we’ve had all year!” The Low Humidity Day I long for and celebrate every summer stretched into Low Humidity Week and beyond. Cumulus clouds accumulate: in the south, east to west, high overhead, flanked by flailing cirrus and steadied by stratus foundations. My artist friend Judith Bailey said to me once, if I painted a sky like this, with all these colors and kinds of clouds, no one would believe it! God can get away with anything! I laughed at her description of God-As-Artist but I understand exactly what she meant.
I’ve been up to greet the sun twice in the past week and stayed out late to pay respect to the harvest moon twice the week before that. I sometimes sing a worship chorus written by David Ruis called Sweet Wind. I thought of that song this month, sweet a fitting description for September’s wind and light and their wooing of waves and clouds and sea grasses…and me.
Pete and I have been married long enough now to know that a steady love sustains through storm and sweetens the most ordinary of days and weeks. September is like that, too. This year, its loveliness kissed and made up for a chillier, damper and grayer spring and summer. I can finally with a deep sigh let go of spring and summer’s osprey who have all left their nests for points south, knowing they will return next March, about the time Pete and I will celebrate another year together, and the seasonal cycles begin their yearly round dance one more time.
It is easier to let go of one season when the next holds out its hands with a gift. This past week, what we think of as “our” mama gray fox—ours not because we own her, in any sense of the word, but because she has captured and thus owns our hearts—has visited twice after being out of sight since she moved her den last June. My heart raced to see her even as my feet raced to the front door of the gallery. She trotted easily through the side lot, only stopping and turning as I called. I love that she knows our voices. This has been a banner month of reconnecting with family and friends, too. So much for my heart to rejoice over, to speak gratitude for.
So if you haven’t fallen yet, are you ready to fall in love with autumn? Then scroll down and savor the sweetness.
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click for larger image | A group of Black Skimmers flies back to join the rest at the tip of Pea Island, behind the jetty there. |
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click for larger image | I plant Lantana specifically to attract butterflies. It blooms later than some but keeps its bright flowers even into wintertime, and provides perfect fall food. |
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click for larger image | You have to look closely but a pale harvest moon is peering out from behind its cloud curtain, well above the horizon. A gentle, beautiful September evening in Southern Shores. |
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click for larger image | Late September's golden sea oats appear even more gilded in "the golden hour," that time shortly before sunset when the sun is low in the sky. |
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click for larger image | Dawn at Jennettes Pier, September 23. Since the first official day of fall was rainy all day, I guess this qualifies as Autumn's First Sunrise. |
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click for larger image | Here's the Golden Hour on the other end of the day, just after dawn. Once the sun was too bright for me to continue to photograph the beach looking south, I turned north. |
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click for larger image | All week long, the skies at dawn, at dusk, at midday have been extraordinary. This is the sunset on September 26 (Thursday). |
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click for larger image | Thursday's sunset was so inspiring that I got up early Friday, betting the same clouds and weather pattern would produce a vibrant sunrise. And they did! Avalon Pier, Sept. 27, dawn. |
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posted by eturek at 12:03 PM |
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