September’s golden light
…spills into the house and each morning, I’m aware of the new sounds of the changing season. (Horseflies!)
The bedrooms of the little old schoolhouse are on the west, cool and dark, with only the reverse sunrise shining on the maple tree out front to show whether sun or rain lies ahead.
But behind me, the sun pours onto the wooden floors and the front rooms are brilliant/warm/yellow/bursting forth with golden September.
No fog yet, the days are still hot.
Harris Cove is flatter than Kansas, with only a few pops and squirts in the morning. One lone blue heron grocks and skims.
With sincere appreciation for the food freely given by the volunteer tomato plants in the garden, the leek seeds dropping onto the garden bed for winter growth, and the fading zinnias, still golden soul sisters after all these summer days.