By Mark Constance
Good morning Northern Michigan.
At the moment I’m sitting on the front porch holding a cup of coffee, scanning the yard. I am comfortable; Sitting in an ugly, old wooden chair. It’s arms are worn smooth from years of rubbing, and the seat is molded in a way that looks inviting to sit in. But in reality, it’s comfortable for me and no one else wants any part of it.
The leaves on the apples trees are starting to yellow and curl.
There is a thick fog this morning. A light West breeze carries the smell of rain. The crickets are loud. Honey bees are thick on the vines that hug the posts on the porch, working hard to extract that last little bit of sweetness.
Summer is fading.
As for us, we start prepping the lawn equipment, winterizing our cars and trucks, and fill our wood piles or propane tanks. Of course, there will be some nice days to come. Crisp evenings around a fire and time in the woods. But you can’t fight off the inevitable. So we make make decisions based on what we need to do to survive the change of seasons.
You have to wonder if the critters and bugs outside are aware of the change in season the same way were are. Do they know what their fate is? Do they just keep working until the first hard frost and just cease to exist, oblivious to the rest of creation?
One of these mornings their sounds will cease for another season. And it will be quiet.
Till then, the windows will stay open. We can wake up and go to sleep with the background raucous of a million critters chatting things up and having their last summer fling.
The fog has now been replaced by a misting rain. I’ll warm up my coffee and plan the day. No need for a radio. The sounds of the critters will drown it out anyway.