The sun is bright. I shut the blinds against the day, pulling in, keeping myself from being taken outside by the clear sky, by the relentless turning and shedding of the maples.
I pull back to watch myself, to see how my body remains here, momentarily invulnerable in this room. I pull back to watch my feelings before I let autumn in, to see myself the way I was in summer.
Now, the end of the season always excites me: the excitement of the first frost, the collapse of the high canopy, the end of the cycles of garden flowers and wild flowers. But if I enjoy it all so much, then why do I retreat here?
I think it’s because I need to hide away from the rush of time and all that it foretells. Protected behind unmoving, neutral walls and blinds, I rebel, and I try to keep myself from all the power outside. I try to remember all the colors and scents of July.
I try to escape the wheel, to escape the order, to reverse or quiet the spin. I pretend that things are still the way they were.
Then, rested for a while from all the violence of change, I can go out again, renewed and ready for late fall.
This is Bill Felker with Poor Will’s Almanack. I’ll be back again next week with notes for the transition week to late fall. In the meantime, hide from the wheel for just a little while. See if that helps….
