wake up

i just returned from a little walk through the draw behind my house. my pant legs are soaked in morning dew, and my lungs are flexed and full of fresh air. i trapsed through purple aster and oregon grape, following the natural paths laid out by fallen trees, shale beds, and deer hooves. the mornings here are so still,and sounds resonate further than later in the day. bird songs come from oak and juniper, cedar and ponderosa pine. i hear the commute of an occasional automobile on the highway in the distance, and the steam whistle of the coal train 5 miles off in durango, announcing its load of passengers departing for the old mining town of silverton. i notice the mushrooms gaining ground in the decaying trees; i stop and put my hand on a juniper branch and suddenly feel my hand stimulated--there are 6 ants dancing on it, and dozens more racing up and down the tree. yet despite the abundance of life and sound, i can feel the slowing down of things. it is, after all, nearly 8 in the morning, where weeks ago this would have been the scene nearly 2 hours earlier. we are, at this point, losing 2 minutes of daylight each day. that's 15 minutes a week; an hour a month. the forecast calls for our nighttime temperatures to drop to the 40's this week, and it's true, i feel the transition to fall growing in my bones. i find myself having thoughts about winter. we're collecting firewood for the house already. in the heat and harvest of august, the nature of nesting is starting to root.

i was aware this morning of the sense that opportunity is slipping away, like the minutes of daylight. i've felt stuck lately, not knowing what to do after my garden becomes shadowed and the plants stop producing. i realized, in a moment, that i'm trying to hold the door open, fixing myself as dead weight against the swing of change. but there is no door on opportunity, there are just different moments and manifestations of it. some you step into, and some you don't. some mornings you sleep in, some mornings you rise to work, and others you get up and walk. but the morning always comes.