Summer is gradually packing up her bags. It was chilly this morning as it’s not been for a while. The night’s darkness comes sooner. It’s not only because of the drought that nature’s green is turning brown. It’s the ending of the season. Oh, how I’m gonna miss you, Summer! But, wait, I love Autumn, too—the beginning of an invitation in. And harvest, the idea of it. Though this Fall I think the only thing I’ll be harvesting are the vestiges of grief. It’s human nature to get all glittery about Spring, that new and brilliant season. It reminds of us that in us that replenishes, is vibrant and bright.
What I’m thinking about is beauty past beauty—when a thing is past it’s prime, beyond its most evident intended or anticipated function. (Am I? Are you?) One might say my mother-in-law, at 86, is past her prime but when it comes to beauty, oh, she’s got it hands down. I’m thinking about settled-in beauty, the subtle and easy-to-miss. Gorgeousness of that which is now brittle, the beauty of fragility, of almost gone but not quite. I’m thinking of the many hues gray has. With this in mind, I’ve been looking at these parts of the natural world around me. Would love to hear your thoughts.