I learned yesterday that my childhood self was not wrong after all: Yesterday really was the first day of fall.
It’s a thing, a concept known as “meteorological fall” — or, collectively, meteorological seasons — and it’s the way by which meteorologists and climatologists divide the year, as opposed to the “astronomical” method that does so by the relationship of earth to sun.
Of course, speaking of climatology, climate change is fast ensuring that all bets are off now anyway. Obvious and clear signs of fall appeared here in July, which still is not as extreme as last year’s late June. Of course, this year, our drought has been punctuated by at least some rain.
Three days ago, the first yellow appeared on the chamisa that line the land’s edges. The willows are patched with gold, green fronds looking increasingly like some threadbare coat. The maples have been edging themselves with scarlet for weeks, and now, the earliest of the sunflowers are already shedding their petals, stems twisting hard and dry in anticipation of that long sleep until next summer.
But this land is different, and there will be much summer left, and no small amount of early winter too, before the green fades.
Despite the gold of the chamisa and the new pale browning of the fields, the grass by the house is still lush and deep, blades the color of jade, thick and high and ready for another cut. The majority of the leaves on the trees remain green, although we are fast approaching that tipping point. I noticed a couple of days ago that the meadows on the lower slopes and the stands of deciduous trees at their higher elevations are now suddenly newly visible: still green, yes, but their sudden contrast with the evergreens around them means that their colors are already on the path that will fade them to amber and gold.
There is a renewed sense of urgency, one that accompanies such outer-world concerns as “Labor Day” and “back to school” but that really has nothing to do with either. Here, we live by the seasons, meteorological and astronomical alike, and these days of crisper air and shorter light, of colorful leaves and wild sunflowers suddenly humble, bowing their heads to the earth, all remind us that time is short. There is much to do before the snow flies, and we have already begun that process.
Meanwhile, we still enjoy the warmth, and the green before it fades.
~ Aji
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