I can’t remember whether it was the shift from stillness in the air to the very moment it lightly danced across my shoulders like a friendly chill, or if it was the happenstance of inhaling the true meaning of ‘fresh’ through my nose at the same time as the maple leaves quickly began rustling whispers outside the old cabin door, taking in the first raindrops’ fragrance and the novelty attached to young air born from deep within the wood’s underbelly, one experienced only thanks to a breeze brought to me. A breeze ready to be known. Probably filled with the spirit and awe of flowers near their days of sleep, pink petals from the forest floor looking up to their towering ancestors within the evergreens.
It feels it was all at once now, but it came in slow waves at the time. This would mark the first drizzle of Autumn, barreling into a proper downpour as I finished skimming pages 46 through 48 of the previously-loved fiction book I only grabbed from the Little Free Library earlier this morning.
Sweet, high-pitched songs came in like a melody. The rain tapped on the metal flue through the roof, with an empty wood stove itching to crackle. Even the wind chimes joined in, hanging from branches across the yard, triangulated as if to keep wizards away.
My juncos were and still are celebrating. They have already started coming down from the Olympic Mountains and into these foothills for winter. The towhee is in the bird bath on the makeshift deck, holding on to a rock I dug out from the soil last summer, knees bent, twisting here and there to wet her tummy and under-wings, while droplets fall from the clouds and onto her back, gliding into the shallow blue bucket, destined only for small, thirsty bellies now.
I’ve been watching her quietly, from the slit of light and sneaky air between the white paint-chipped door and it’s frame, in between the brass hinges. She’s singing. It calls to my heart. And my heart responds with song made only for her, too. In this presence, I am the happiest I’ll ever be, and I know it. The coffee in my mug has gone cold.
