Some of the hydrangea blossoms are beginning to fade to muted Autumn colors, which I think are even more beautiful than the blues of Summer.
A few are stubbornly trying to hang on to the blue of their youth but, as with all of us, age will have its way. It feels like Autumn here tonight. It's chilly enough to have a small fire in the living room fireplace, and there is the welcome scent of dampness in the air. If it actually rained here I'm sure people all over these mountains would be as thrilled and relieved as I would be because we haven't had any measurable rain since May 18th. I try not to think about that too much; it's just too frightening.
Today I took a dozen jars of apple butter, just made yesterday, down to my sister. It's still horribly hot down where she lives in the San Bernardino valley. Well, hot to me; after the above 100 degree temperatures they've had down there, she said 80 degrees felt wonderful. Not to me! While I was helping her pick the last of the late tomatoes from her garden I felt like I was going to get heat stroke! I'm going to make tomato sauce tomorrow with the tomatoes she sent home with me. The pumpkins in the little pumpkin patch she has are almost ready to be picked (hopefully, next time I go to visit her I'll remember to take my camera) and we'll use the large variety for decorating and the sugar pumpkins for pies and pumpkin butter at Thanksgiving.
Listen. Hear that, under the murmur of the breeze in the trees, under the slowing song of the crickets, under the soft, quiet crackling of the fire? That's the sound of the turning wheel of the year...
Autumn blessings to you all!