the slow exhibit


I can't pretend I'm still into summer.  It's just too dry, and hot, and brown.  We are still enjoying the tomatoes, conversations on the patio in the evenings, nightly serenades from the crickets, and being barefoot most of the time, but we are at that point in summer where things just look spent, like they are giving up and are as tired of summer as I am.  I long for a change in activities.  I long for the change in music, reading, thoughts and ideas that seem to come with fall.  I long for cool air and deep greens to return; for fog and mist and rain and bare branches.  But, until then, we will soak up the warmth we will surely dream of in winter, and watch with wonder nature's slow exhibit of changing colors, textures, and light.

Saturday morning we set out with no clear travel plan other than heading in the general direction of the Clackamas River.  Wildfires in Washington and Oregon have been raging and we definitely felt the effects over the weekend.  A deep orange sun rose, filtered through the smoky sky, giving everything an other-wordly hazy golden glow.  There weren't many other people out on the old National Forest road we took, and it was nice to feel so alone out there after seeing crowds everywhere all summer.  We stopped along the Clackamas, picnicked next to the Breitenbush, and jumped into the Santiam at Niagara (well, one of us did).  

The end of August always feels like a limbo time.  School hasn't started just yet but is looming,  the weather hasn't turned but every once in a while you feel a fall chill, the garden is still giving but the plants are starting to lie down, weary from their season of giving.  Despite the desire for a quick change in the state of things, I'm going to appreciate this time of slow change and try not to overlook the beauty in this natural process, nor wish it away too quickly, for soon enough another season is just around the corner, and anticipation and longing only make it that much sweeter.

 “I love borders. August is the border between summer and autumn; it is the most beautiful month I know. Twilight is the border between day and night, and the shore is the border between sea and land. The border is longing; when both have fallen in love but still haven’t said anything. The border is to be on the way. It is the way that is the most important thing.” - Tove Jansson

by mlekoshi