subtle signs of early autumn

Much as I'd like to deny it, autumn is seeping into summer. All of the little signs are there; you don't have to look too hard to find them. The light is changing, from bright and stark to something more gentle and golden. My watch conveniently displays sunset time, and when I was on Parry Island last week, the first sunset I photographed was at 8:45. By the end of that week we were dialled back to 8:39.

The goldenrod, asters and Queen Anne's Lace have picked up the torch from the daisies and hawkweed. The crowns of a few hardwoods are beginning to change colour, and in fact all of the deciduous trees are morphing from a deep green to a more olive colour. Our apple tree in the back yard is simply laden with fruit, which has begun to drop onto the ground, and will soon be attracting deer and bears as they forage to prepare themselves for the coming winter. Berries are drooping off bushes, ready to fuel the journeys of migrating birds, some of which are already passing through from further northern reaches.

The nights are cooler and more comfortable for sleeping, and in the mornings there is often some mist as the colder air meets the warmish surfaces of land and water. Last week, on Parry Island, we even had an evening of squalls. Squalls are weather phenomena that bring lake-effect precipitation inland. In order for them to form, the surface temperature of the body of water needs to be at least 13* C warmer than that of the air passing above it. This is far more common in wintertime, when we get the infamous snow streamers. But in summertime it makes for a dramatic sky to watch.

While I dread the coming of winter, I can't help but marvel at how nature is constantly moving and changing, and gifting us with signs and messages of what is to come.