November 10, 2003
A Golden Day
No two fall seasons are alike. For me, the aspect of fall weather that makes it most interesting is the way it changes from year to year. I have seen years when people complained about the heat, and no less than a month later complained about the cold. These are the least pleasant of fall seasons, when the weather goes straight from summer into winter and there really is no fall at all. These are the years when we seem to have been cheated out of a season.
Then there are years when summer slowly drifts into winter. The days simply get cooler and cooler, and the golden warmth known as “Indian Summer” seems as though it will go on forever. I love this “in between” weather that is just warm enough and not too cold.
This year, the fall weather has changed from day to day. A few incredibly warm days fade into January-like cold. One day the sun is bright and butterflies flit from flower to flower. The next day, the butterflies are in hiding, the sky is iron grey, and the last of the fall flowers look as though they will drop their petals at the slightest puff of wind.
Yesterday was a butterfly day. As I walked the levee, a monarch flitted along the gravel path. The sky was bluebird clear and the sun warmed my back. The levee birds were still and silent in the noonday sun, except for the clouds of starlings that passed along the horizon. In the bright yellow sun, the flocks of starlings were black clouds, changing shape and direction as one. The term for this ability of a large flock to move as one is murmuration.
A Golden Day
No two fall seasons are alike. For me, the aspect of fall weather that makes it most interesting is the way it changes from year to year. I have seen years when people complained about the heat, and no less than a month later complained about the cold. These are the least pleasant of fall seasons, when the weather goes straight from summer into winter and there really is no fall at all. These are the years when we seem to have been cheated out of a season.
Then there are years when summer slowly drifts into winter. The days simply get cooler and cooler, and the golden warmth known as “Indian Summer” seems as though it will go on forever. I love this “in between” weather that is just warm enough and not too cold.
This year, the fall weather has changed from day to day. A few incredibly warm days fade into January-like cold. One day the sun is bright and butterflies flit from flower to flower. The next day, the butterflies are in hiding, the sky is iron grey, and the last of the fall flowers look as though they will drop their petals at the slightest puff of wind.
Yesterday was a butterfly day. As I walked the levee, a monarch flitted along the gravel path. The sky was bluebird clear and the sun warmed my back. The levee birds were still and silent in the noonday sun, except for the clouds of starlings that passed along the horizon. In the bright yellow sun, the flocks of starlings were black clouds, changing shape and direction as one. The term for this ability of a large flock to move as one is murmuration.
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