The Turning

The other day I read somewhere that this season, this time at the end of summer when already we can see and feel that  fall is coming, is The Turning. The time of turning from one season to the next. 

Here in coastal Maine the light in late August already heralds this time. Light takes on a bit of a golden tone. The leaves no longer look fresh as they too prepare for the on-coming autumn. The flowers in gardens are at their most glorious, slinging color out before frost knocks them down and turns them brown in a few weeks. People who heat with wood are splitting and stacking the winter’s supply. Local newspapers carry pleas for where dry cord wood can still be obtained. Canning and preserving this year’s harvest. A time of plenty and of scurrying about getting ready for the winter which lies not that far down the road.

My birthday was at the end of July. This year I turned 71. I noticed last year that the turn in my 70s was different in subtle ways from the turn to earlier decades. For indeed this is the time of the turning in my life and in the lives of all of us in our late 60s and early 70s. We may still have big ideas and things we want to accomplish. A pile of books so high we don’t know when we will ever get to the bottom. For me, a supply of yarn greater than I can knit in the time left to me. Netflix, Hulu, Acorn queues longer than can be viewed this lifetime. So much living left to do. And yet, the turning. Knowing that we draw ever closer to the end. Knowing we will leave things left undone. This bittersweet time of the turning when we are neither where we were when we were young yet not yet at the end either.

Savor The Turning. It is a beautiful time.

© Cheryl Fuller, 2018. All  rights reserved.