Sundown in Late August

It's the perfect sunset in every way, taken from the road on the way home this weekend, and really, no words are necessary to describe a sumptuous view which is quite beyond words and descriptions.

Somewhere out there in the darkness below that flaming sky and those deep inky clouds, are rolling piney ridges and sleeping coves, old rail fences, log barns and farmhouses, fields full of grazing geese and deer, owls hunting the night, wild turkeys drowsing in their oak copses, the deep peace that comes over everything here when August draws to a close.

I close my eyes now, and I can see the leaves turning on the hill, long fragrant rows of firewood neatly stacked by the kitchen door in Lanark, old stone hearths, fireplaces and wood stoves kindled at dusk, bluebirds and swallows lined up on telephone wires everywhere and making ready to migrate, the endless columns of jams, jellies and pickles making their way into the larder.

It is a gorgeous time of the year, a season chock full of color and abundance. It's a time of change and transformation too, and one can't help but be thoughtful and perhaps a tad pensive when she thinks of past turnings and turnings which are yet to be. I think too of all the friends out there in the darkness - they are curled up in their own rocking chairs by the hearth with cups of tea and books. We all seem to be on the same page, and that is a gift at any time of the turning year.