Season of change

August 2022 - I sit, now, writing in late August, weeks ago having relegated the ceaseless sounds of cicadas and crickets to background noise - only registered if intent on listening. A few faded leaves dot the lawn.

Their hair is sun-bleached, skin browned, limbs stretched. After a summer in swimsuits and sandals, they no longer fit in their jeans, their boots. The water, the soil and the sun did as much for them, it seems, as it did the seedlings.

Summer is winding down. Long lazy days overlap with bits and pieces of a familiar routine. Less often I ring the dinner bell. Instead, they arrive at the back door of their own accord, tired and hungry - naturally - as the days shorten, the nights cool.

Shiny shoes line the mudroom. Sharpened pencils stand at attention in brightly colored backpacks. Soon we’ll meet the bus at the end of the drive, along with it, a new rhythm. We’ll step into a season of change - wistful but confident. A little taller, a little stronger, after a season of water and soil and sun - of growth.

Photos taken late May this year, on the day we planted our garden, by my dear friend Candice Hackett of Ivy and Tweed - she has a true gift for capturing the magic of childhood.