The waves are crashing against the Lake Michigan shore. We do not have lakeside property or view property, but we do have listening property, and I can imagine the waves rolling and foaming, reshaping the beach again. If I wanted to, I could put on a couple of layers of clothing right now and walk down to the public beach to watch the power of the lake in person.
After Saturday’s snow and sleet, it felt like time to bring in the hummingbird feeder this morning. A lovely Costa’s hummingbird with an iridescent purple throat appeared at a feeder in Onekama last October, but it seems less and less likely such a miracle will occur this year in our yard. The birding paparazzi snapped hundreds of photos of the Costa’s, but this bird was far off course and there would be no flowers to sustain it along its way South.
I’ll need help to move the grill into the garage. Yesterday we watched three fox squirrels go under the plastic cover. They stayed there a long time, as if they were celebrating finding a squirrel tent made just for them. They hadn’t carried any leaves under there to start a nest yet, but it was easy to read their minds.
Hoses, chairs, bird baths and bicycles — all must be cleaned and stored this week. I will chop down the perennials, except the ones that still carry seeds for the birds or for next year’s flowers. The trees are stubbornly clinging to their leaves, but sooner or later they’ll have to fall, and we know what comes next.
This is the season cleaning up and closing down, but it is also a season for building upother things — writing projects, knitting projects, long over-due letters, and piles of books. Good smells of baking and soup making. In a way, I guess the changing seasons define my religion. Each transition reminds me of all the reasons I am glad to be alive.