last of august
Took to the bush tonight. Was looking for a change of colour. The summer has been unrelenting, leaving not a blade of grass unburnt. But the bush is where to tally the score. Windermere creek ran all year, instead of going dry. The Huckleberries dried up. Same with the Bear Berries. The Elderberries were early.
We are heading in the right direction. The mornings are cooling off. The water is still warm. The forest fire smoke is clearing. The light is deepening. The bears are coming down. The elk are still up there moving around, guarded in the trees.
The creeks are clearing and the rain feels good.
I enjoy jumping off the cliffs and bridges into the creeks, the heat of summer, especially the onset. But fall is when you chop wood and look for Cutthroat. The garden has overtaken the weeds. It doesn’t need my help anymore. The dogs don’t have to worry the thunder or pant the heat.
The tomatoes are starting to ripen on the vine. I have another ten days before I have to worry about frost. And when it comes it comes. I’ll throw tarps, blankets, whatever. . . and if it catches me with my pants down it can kiss my ass. I’ve always loved cool lips.
It’s not officially fall, but we’re on our way!