The color and the light and the feel of the air changes in September. It is still green, but not quite as.
The deer get weird.
The squirrels get busy. This is a chicaree messing around with a red fir cone. They drop them like bombs in the early morning on the roofs of cabins. It is rude.
There is a hint of yellow beginning in the cottonwoods.
It is a peculiar change of color.
A reluctant change.
A hesitant change.
The currants aren’t as confused as the cottonwoods.
I don’t know what this is and never notice it in the summer, but it is a confident harbinger of fall.
The East Fork of the Kaweah has dwindled to almost nothing, and in fact, it does dwindle to nothing at one place in the upper valley. Very weird to see it just go away and then re-emerge a few yards downstream. I’ve never seen that before, but maybe I wasn’t looking. The drought is making us all hyper-aware of water in all situations. (I was playing in water coming out of a fire hydrant at home last week as we were testing water pressure – couldn’t stand to see it just flow without some sort of reverence or enjoyment!)
Farewell, Farewell (Gap) and I hope “farewell, Summer” soon.
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