"Funny how time slips sideways in this place." Caroline (Poly Walker) says in my favorite movie. It seem anachronis to quote Enchanted April in reference to September. But it's true.
Time slips silently, flowing over us in swooping curves like birds flocking and swaying through the cooling mornings. The trees are full of winged evidence of time. Chattering followers of seasons silhouette themselves against the sunrise and arc through the morning -- sinuous reminders of the approaching autumn.
Indian Summer is upon us. The sun brings daily warmth, flip-flops and summer dresses; the crisping nights sing of apple ciders, bonfires and flannel quilts. Soon the leaves will begin to turn, to fall. Indeed, they are turning already.
The Burning Bush has begun to blush red; the licking flames of autumn climb it's branches. I capture this image, fleeting evidence of time, before the branches bare themselves to further seasons, to the thankfulness of November, the starkness of January, the resurrection of April. For right now, for this paused moment, this small eddy in the stream of time, the seasons mingle. The leaves are red and green, the weather warms and chills, the birds are here and there, and with them I follow curving lines washing back and forth across the mornings.