Welcome, August 1st. Strolling through the meadow, I perceive the tiniest of signs showing that the world turns toward the cold season. A branch of aspen shivers yellow amid the verdant, lush green foliage. The grasses tinge red. Only the oldest of the hummingbirds hang about now. They will spend their last days drinking up my homemade nectar and give their bodies to the first snowstorm. Too soon. This year, I feel the world spinning on its axis, and the spin is far too fast.
Up in the high mountains, summers are glorious and maddeningly short. One must fiercely enjoy these moments because they are few and brief. As my hand strokes the tops of a field’s grasses, I notice they move like the finest feathers dancing with the sunlight. Enjoy them now.