Nature Connection: Summer’s End

By the time you read this, summer will be gone and fall will be here. It happens quickly, this transition from one season to another. Being true New Englanders, we tend to hold onto summer more than we do winter, but the seasons move along at their own pace, not ours.

As someone entering the winter season of her own life, I find myself especially drawn to spring and summer these days, reveling in the new life, the lushness of it all. Fall is lovely but is also the end of so many things, truly bittersweet as far as I’m concerned.

As summer fades and leaves begin to turn, I watch the squirrels load up on nuts and acorns. They carry these off to bury hither and thither in lawns and in the woods. Although they seem to leave some scent markers behind to help them find their treasures later on, we know that they never get all their cache. Those acorns, nuts, and seeds left behind become seedlings, then saplings, then maybe tall trees that will put forth their own acorns, nuts, and seeds for generations of squirrels to come. 

We do this too, I think. We live our lives doing little helpful things here and there, giving time, energy and money to the organizations that support our communities, sharing love and compassion not just with family and friends, but with coworkers, students, teachers, service, medical, and utility people. These are our nuts and acorns, the little treasures we leave behind. Some will be appreciated, and others will go unnoticed but perhaps spawn something positive down the road.

Crows are gathering and chattering amongst themselves. Crows are symbolic of so many things in our human world. Like their raven cousins they tend toward the morbid, probably due to the way they relish a good roadkill breakfast. Crows are very smart and have a complex language and social structure. When I hear them conversing on my morning walks, I often wonder what they are discussing. I can see them peering into yards, along roadsides, watching, watching, watching.

Crows and jays, their smaller cousins, are great neighborhood watch alarmists. They let everyone know when danger is afoot or a-wing, often cawing and mobbing the exposed predator. Their goal is to embarrass, frighten, or scare away the interloper and they are often successful. To be fair, they can also be the predators, especially of nests, so they aren’t always looking out for their neighbors or being good Samaritans, if you know what I mean.

The dry summer has stressed many of our trees, grasses and flowers and leaves are already crackling with dryness and prematurely falling from branches. I can see leaves changing color already in some areas, but it is stress, not the usual coolness of fall causing the early changes. Pond and lake levels are low, small animals, birds, and insects are all looking for water, and although it has been lovely to enjoy sunny days, I find myself longing for rain, a lovely refreshing rain, preferably at night, you know, like Camelot.

Late summer and early fall are the times of insect song. Most adult insects will not survive the cold of winter and must mate and lay eggs to do their part for species continuation. Some insects will survive the winter as eggs or larvae, but many will pupate, meaning they will enter a state of dormancy and change that is somewhat like being in suspended animation. When spring comes around all these eggs, larvae and pupae will wake up and continue their process toward adulthood and the cycle will repeat.

Early fall is the last chance for many birds and animals to bulk up their bodies for winter. Although many will continue to find food if the winter is a mild one, they must be prepared for the worst. We humans have stores and cars and planes and credit cards, and we seem far removed from the annual gathering and saving that our animal neighbors are engaged in.

I still feel the pull, however, and perhaps you do, too. I want to make jams and breads, can and freeze things. I want the pantry to be full and the wood stacked, the blankets aired out, and the boots dug out of storage. I know they’re somewhere. Our central heating and indoor plumbing have removed us from the daily maintenance that staying warm and clean once required but I am aware of the cool mornings and the longer time it takes my laundry to dry on the line.

The landscape is full of seeds and dying flowers. Sandpipers and swallows are taking their fill of food at area beaches and dune areas and the whales are beginning to think about moving on. The warm days of turtles sunning and frogs serenading from their shady spots under bushes are coming to a close and even the dragonflies are slowing down.

Bees are still feeding in our gardens and ants are scurrying about but soon they, too, will be resting, some for the final time.

As summer ends our thoughts may be turning elsewhere but I’m not giving up quite yet. There is still time to enjoy warm afternoons watching the blackbirds gather and listening to the grasshoppers and crickets preparing to end their symphonic season. I will gather milkweed seeds and the last of the wild rose petals, admire the new fall coats of foxes and deer, and wait for the annual arrival of the winter ducks on Cape Cod Bay.

It may say fall on the calendar and feel like fall when we get up early in the morning but there is still much to savor and enjoy before summer slips all the way through our fingers.