Yesterday was a fall day that seems more persistent close to a holiday. The clouds rolled dark gray like dirty cotton balls heading to the coast. A crack or two amongst the gray cotton occasionally revealed something bluer above and one or twice the sun forced an angled glimmer of gold across the ground.
Out on the lake the ducks sat in clumps and in close proximity to each other as if it was the requirement for this day. The geese were flying in low formations through the cove and just off the point all the fisherman appeared to have taken a clue from the ducks and fished in a tight gathering.
By early afternoon we headed off to town for a few errands and then on to Abbeville to visit a non-profit fund raiser and knock around a bit. Even in the just-dressed-up-for-Christmas classic small town the streets were damp and littered with fallen leaves. Not winter, nor summer. A classic late fall days.
Summer has long gone, but no one has quite tucked it in for the cold months. Yet, there is a sense that life is slowing down for a season. The trees, the landscape, the plants, even the light...everything seems to be pausing for a breath and easing off the pace. It is the time we remember fire pits, and warmer cloths, and even warmer conversations with friends. Perhaps it is a time less welcome in our youth and embraced as the years begin to pass.
Today broke sharpe and clear. Blue skies and cold air. Yesterday's dirty gray was a remembrance as the day glimmered brightly. Yet yesterday to be remembered warmly as that cool gray day.