Mellow

Mellow

If a word was ever intended for a particular time of the year, I think the word would be mellow, and the time of year would be now.  I am blessed to live where there is no mistaking autumn.  Oranges and yellows and reds are splashed across the landscape.  Clear deep dark nights recede into clear frosty mornings.  You can shiver in the morning and peel layers off in the afternoon.  The air is electric with calls of cranes and geese and swans and ducks.  The urgency of autumn is as easy to smell as woodsmoke. 

But, this time of year is much more subtle than all that.  These days are like cresting a hill so subtle that perhaps you didn’t even realize that you were climbing.  But you were climbing from spring and all through summer.  And now the climb back down has begun. 

Today was a metaphor for the season.  A clear, still, deep night gave way to a dawn that, if it could play music, it would be a tune from a single violin.  The music would sway as dawn filled the sky.  As the sun turned from the embrace of the eastern horizon and took flight, its golden light would bejewel the thick dew that beads from every surface. 

Michelle and I had already decided last evening that we would kayak Kangaroo Lake up in Door County for the heart of the day and find somewhere with outdoor dining for lunch.  It saved us precious time that we could spend experiencing rather than discussing.  There were only two other vehicles at the boat landing – both trailers suggested smaller fishing boats rather than the speedboats of summer.  Our paddle would be quiet and relaxed.

The houses and cottages along the shoreline were for the most part, quiet with window shades drawn down.  Children were back in school.  A number of the docks, while still in the water, had no boat moored.  These are probably the Memorial Day to Labor Day only users.  To me, the best times of year to be blessed with a cabin if indeed one has been so blessed, would be when it was cold enough outside to warrant a fire in the fireplace.  The warmth and subtle light emanating from the fire speaks peace to one’s soul, even with the occasional snap and crackle.

Out on the water the first thing we noticed was the monarch butterflies.  No doubt the annual migration to Mexico is in full force.  At times I can point out a dozen or more butterflies along our route.  They are all flying from northeast to southwest; I would wager that these had come across Lake Michigan and would follow the Door Peninsula southward.  Although there are enough butterflies that you spot a different one every couple of minutes, they are each on their own.  For a moment I wonder aloud so Michelle can hear me of what it would look like if they migrated in flocks like the birds.

Paddling along the southern shore we see a doe with a fawn.  There is still a noticeable difference in size, but the fawn’s spots are gone.  The doe also has lost her reddish coat of deep summer as her gray coat for winter is growing in. 

A bald eagle, pushes off from near the top of a white pine – the tree a good 100 feet tall.  The eagle loses height at first, but with his broad wings beating powerfully the arc reverses quickly as he now gains altitude, turns inland and disappears from sight beyond the treetops.  Since the eagle drew my attention to the shoreline I notice that the next quarter mile or so is predominately sugar maples.  There is no fall fire yet in the foliage, but the leaves no longer are the deep green of deep summer.  Not yet turning, the leaves are whispering a soft hint that the time is drawing near.

As we slide the kayaks up onto the sandy area by the boat landing and I get out, the water has a noticeable bit of bite to it from the longer, cooler nights, but the bright sunlight of this day has blended the temperature enough that after a few seconds it is comfortable again. 

Even though autumn is my favorite season of all, it’s best not to hurry.  Breathe deeply of these mellow days.  If you sway to September’s music, then entering into autumn will be like entering into prayer.

His Peace <><

Deacon Dan