The days are getting quieter, or should I say, the sounds are changing. While we can all “see” the changes in the season, I am acutely aware of the other senses that signal a change in the air.
Gone are the bubbly morning bird songs sung as they hustled and bustled making nests and making babies. The robins singing to the morning sunshine and the twitter of finches in many varieties have all disappeared. Replacing them are the squawking’s of blue jays and crows looking for the left overs of a bountiful summer.
Geese honk as they circle in to land on a nearby pond. It will be one of many stops for them as they head back south for the winter. Turkeys, who have been suspiciously absent this summer, have made their way back to our field, a new batch of babies (now a bit older but still smaller than the adults) in tow.
The cool spring air that brought with it the smell of damp earth and feel of a misty morning breeze against my skin have changed from the hot and humid breath of summer to the waning warmth and dry breeze of fall.
Weekdays bring the familiar school bus, which stops outside our house every morning picking up the local kids for school. I know exactly what time it is by the sound of the diesel engine outside my window.
Randomly, throughout the day and evening, I hear the “thump” and shake of a tree branch as yet another pear falls from the tree outside my office window.
Soon, the smell of dying leaves and wood smoke will fill the air and the days will get even shorter as the sun angles more to the south. Apple season is upon us, so the smell of some type of bakes apple dish will fill my kitchen, you can be sure of that.
Visually, we can see the seasons change, but more poignantly we “feel” them change with every sense of our being. The air changes from moist to dry. The crickets are louder, the birds quieter, and a hush falls across the land as everything takes a final inhale before winter.