As much as I love summer in the Pacific Northwest, I relish this time of year, when I feel the real beauty in the change of seasons. Not the colors, but rather the quiet.
In the park, hoards of screaming kids have been replaced with a dog or two and their humans.
The brilliant hot pinks, purples and oranges of our daily sunset have turned to a warm golden glow filtered through a hundred hues of gray.
The days seem longer to me—or rather, the evenings do . . . and since that’s my time at home, it makes the whole day seem longer and much more relaxed.
It’s dark so early now. Looking at the clock, I catch myself being surprised at how much evening is left. I would sometimes feel dread in August (“Oh god, it’s time for bed already, which means I have to go to work AGAIN.”), but I smile in November (“Wow, it’s only 7:15? I have almost three hours left in my day! Yay!”).
A slowness, a relaxation, a stillness settles over the house. We’re not running, running, packing as much as we can into our long, perfect summer days before they’re gone. As the long fall and winter stretches before us, we have no choice but to hunker down, settle in, and enjoy.
I really love this time of year.
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