I took this picture out the car window sunday night, as we were pulling out of the driveway to head to dinner at my grandparents' farm. I was trying to adjust the manual settings on my camera just a bit, remembering that my last photographs had been indoors and that any pictures I took on this evening would be outside.
It turned out that I had a baby on hip most of the time, except for the chance I got to eat hands-free thanks to some helpful family members passing Birdy around among them. And no pictures were taken, but one. On the way out the door to come home.
But the next morning when I paused to look at this "nothing-special" photograph, I realized how much our place is beginning to look like fall. The warming of the evening light. The garden, bare except for my flowers that hang on until that very first frost and the sweet potato vines tangled at my flower's feet. Clothes on the line again–I confess it was just too hot and humid many days this summer to even think about clothes out on the line. The hostas getting a bit droopy, sad, and pocked with holes. The ground under the rope swing bare to the dirt. A few leaves yellowing and dropping.
I love the changing of seasons. I feel like I come back to life in the fall. Summer often does me in and sucks all the life and creativity and umph out of me. I'm excited to get back in the kitchen. Back outside. I begin to tackle major cleaning projects (ceiling fans, anyone? tub tile? mudroom windows?).
I hope the changing of seasons is treating you well. I'd love to hear what fall brings to your life.