The dogs have more zip in the cool morning air as they run around the field. The gentle wind throws a layer of pine needles over the heat-burned brittle grass. The oak leaves follow as they lose their grip on the branches and cascade onto the pine needles like little children slipping down a silver slide.
Soon the ground will be covered, the roots of the trees layered with dying leaves. The dogs will roll ecstatically and the moldy leaves will cling to their coats.
For now the ivy grips the green branches, afraid to let go, afraid to die. But slowly the cool air turns the ivy to crisp shades of orange, red and yellow.
The sun falls on the dog’s fur, making her coat look like that of the burnished-red fox that moments ago ran by. The dog stood listening, unaware of the vixen soundlessly padding in the woods nearby.
The red Vinca are tough. They will not easily give up their blossoms. They grow vigorously in a shaded bed, unaware of the summer’s drought, strong and beautiful like the Border Collie dog quietly sitting in the distance.
Yesterday’s red skies, tonight’s storm laden clouds, Mother Earth has more to unveil as the season unfolds. Tomorrow a forecast of rain, a tropical storm fighting internally within nature, not ready to give in to cold and ice and snow. The birds are quiet for once but the squirrels waste not a minute, working to prepare for the season of nothingness, winter.
Thus the first hours of the fall season have arrived again, the seconds, the hours, the days of this year drawing closer to the end. After the fall, a rest, winter and then natures reawakening. But the dogs teach me to live now, to enjoy the first taste of autumn. I must join them.
Come dogs, let’s get ready to run through a field soon deep with multi-colored leaves. Help me to accept and embrace the season.