The signs of change are all about us now. By the calendar autumn is yet almost a month away. But when the tall new England asters cast their royal purple mantle over the fallow fields and along the dusty roadsides we know the changing of the guard is about to take place.

The mornings have a chill to them and the birds no longer fill the air with their morning anthems.

The winds foretell the change. Their breath carries the scent of ripening corn and their voices carry the faint echo of ancient prophecies. No longer do the sun burnt afternoons seem to stretch to the far horizon as they did in July and the bees don’t begin their day until the sun is well up out of the east.

But oh these late summer days are precious beyond what mere words can ever tell.

They are a poignant reminder of times unrelenting march; a reminder too of taking every opportunity to immerse oneself in the gift of each moment because we too have in our own life time the season of autumn.

Pray let it be a long autumn that keeps the chill of winter far into the foreseeable future.