Imperceptible

The heat this summer has been pretty much relentless, with a few days here and there of mid to low 70's F weather to allow us to catch our breath from consistently upper eighties and mid 90's F dry heat and sun. It is pleasant enough for the most part, if unexpected and unusual for this area of the Pacific Northwest. It is late august now, and like clockwork, the warm summer wind has a scent in it of the oncoming autumn that inevitably follows summer's ease. Our 9 feet tall sunflowers are swaying gently in the breeze, their bright yellow heads searing into the bright turquoise sky overhead. They are to me the height of summer's ecstasy and energy, and yet , in their magnificence towering over me, I smell the subtle but unmistakable fragrance of fall's melancholy. That dry, warm perfume that carries in it the seeds of the sadness that another summer that seemed endless is almost over. It seems to be the crux of the human dilemma, that time passes no matter how hard we want to believe it can be slowed down or temporarily stopped. The honey bees around me buzz by our brightly coloured fuchsia and gorge themselves on the generous sunflower heads, and in the beauty and joy of the sight, an unmistakable sadness brushes my heart. It is quiet, almost imperceptible, like very soft pencil lines on a large bright piece of paper. I think the sadness is connected to the realization that if nature is circular, human life is not. Our predicament is one of linear proportions. Our lives are not circular, and nature is, and therein lies our sadness. Our large plum tree and cherry tree, our tall evergreens will live longer than we will. The sky and clouds and wind, and sun, will be there thousands of years after we are long, long forgotten and dust in the air somewhere. We paint, write, sing,love, build, war, but it is to no avail. That is why autumn's melancholy can be so bruising, and why we don't speak of it, except in passing, or a quiet sigh, because it hits close to the ribs, close to the heart. Relationships are gems in this human condition. They tie us to each other, to our common destiny of complete bafflement as to what the hell it all means in the end, as we sit together roasting marshmallows by a crackling fire, being amazed at the millions of stars sparkling in the black velour sky above us. Imperceptible. We can't stop time from moving forward, from dying, from losing each other to time and mortality, so we inhale summer like a cure all high, hoping it will be the antidote to fall and winter's shadow slowly sneaking into our psyche as we feel that first morning chill.