This is the time of the Dragonfly Dance. The time when the cicadas sing at sunset, as the suns rays fall below the western horizon, when the grasshoppers flap their wings in the warm sun, and the chickens begin to come in at 6, knowing the days are growing shorter and looking for their roosts to settle for the night. It's the time when grasscutting goes from being a pleasure to being a chore, and the constant trought filling and pool watering is a pain. As I mow, the dragonflies flit in the air before me, drawing close to the mower and my arms, and then buzzing away at speed, dancing and zooming, off into the pasture and back again. The walnut trees are dropping their leaves, first to fall and last to come out in the spring, their lives short each year... and their bounty littering the yard so that the mower zings the walnuts as I drive over them. Weeds grow tall, and the tomato plants begin to wither and lean, while peppers are still pumping out. The llamas, fat and happy, stand in the shade of their mulberry tree, or graze in the late afternoon shade, growing strong and healthy. Even Uncle Beau has gained a little weight, and moseys around in the yard, unaware that he will have a new companion to bring a spring to his step in a few days.
For us, it's autumn too, a couple of momentous birthdays and another chapter growing closer in our lives. It's the Dragonfly Dance.