The last weeks of September saw summer crumbling apart with a few days of cool weather; I was ready to make a good batch of chili. We decorated, opened the windows, and let the breeze wash away the sweat and heat of summer and were anxious to wrap up in fall.

Then October hit with 80 degree days and no breeze. The rain finally stopped but the humidity remains. Fall has been eluding us ever since.

The dahlias in my backyard are still blooming.

The roses bloomed again and I have been placing cuttings in vases around the house. (See windowsill of first photo)

The news this past week has been difficult. A country divided, my social media blowing up, and friendly gatherings disrupted by politics and strongly held opinions. Between the heat, humidity, and politics, life feels prickly.

Outside, some plants are desperate to flower, producing as much color and smell as they can to ensure seed production during these last days of summer.

Still being visited by the last remaining pollinators.

Still hanging on.

Hydrangea are forever blooming and I will never tire of their beauty.

But some are pulling back, beginning to store energy for the coming winter.

The big maple out front has dropped a few leaves among the thousands yet to fall; my neightbor’s tree has autumn’s colors peeking through.

The green moss on some steps is like velvet and this week, I want to shrink down to the size of an ant and curl up, just for a bit, to let go and enjoy the view.

I hear cooler temperatures are on their way for Friday, in the 60s. Should make my daughter’s softball game on Sunday perfect.

That is if it doesn’t rain.

Fall is coming, change is coming, I remind myself. The roaring heat and torrential rains of summer are gone and the days seem slower, softer, and more withdrawn.

The light fades earlier in the day and begins later in the morning; evenings are warm but not hot, I am seeing less bees and hearing more chatter among the squirrels. Maybe they know something I don’t.

Nature knows she cannot maintain the status quo, not with a coastal New England climate. As I write this, leaves fall like snow out my front window despite the warm air. She knows, for the most part, what’s coming. She is letting go of things she doesn’t need, preparing to store energy for the coming months, and still planning on blooming again next Spring.

Life is the same way.

Things change and we adjust. Some of us may not like it, some may love it, but all of us know, it isn’t forever. The next season is just around the corner.