At the end of September

The end of September hangs suspended between seasons. One day the balance tips towards summer, the next, towards autumn. This past week has been gloriously summer-ish, with golden light and warm days. The garden shows the effect of waning sunlight and cool nights with burnished colour on leaves and flowers. The fig tree leaves fade to yellow and begin to fall. Dry oak leaves scuttle along the street, swirling up into the wind caused by passing vehicles. 

On Friday afternoon it was impossible to stay indoors. My grade 9 Spanish class begged to study outdoors. I promised them a short walk around the playing field if they would work at the beginning of the class. They agreed with alacrity. How lovely it was to be out in the sun with the students, watching them race ahead and fall back, reach up to pick a few remaining sweet blackberries from the bushes along the perimeter, laugh, and talk.

A lone gull lords it over a flock of plovers on a rock nearly covered by the high tide. 

After class, I bought groceries and brought them home, then went out for a little walk. When Tim came home I suggested we go down to the water for a walk. At the breakwater, we saw three huge cruise ships in dock. While we watched, one left and another came in with a tiny tug nudging it into place. Barges, pilot boats, helicopters, float planes, a ferry, pleasure boats, and container ships came and went while the fiery sun sank lower and lower against the Sooke Hills and finally disappeared in a glow of orange. 

With the sun went the warmth and we made our way to the cafe at the breakwater for a simple supper of soup, salad, and a shared plate of nachos. 

Today, Saturday, the clouds have moved in and rain is in the forecast. Still the garden and woods show summer colour, juxtaposed against the tawny shades of autumn. 

Linking with Mosaic Monday, hosted by Maggie of Normandy Life.