The sights and sounds of the Deep South in mid-August are changing. The spectrum of color the prisms make are different now. They are still hanging in the same places in my windows, but somehow, their display is different; the earth is preparing for the arrival of the next season, another cloak to cover us in, another time to enjoy.

My summer house that I wrote about earlier is no longer; it is waning like the moon. The sun is setting at a different time and slightly different place so the shadows it makes inside are changing, moving into the autumn light.

If I squint my eyes just a bit, I can see a slight amber cast in the early evening making the house seem cozier somehow. This old house and I will soon be ready for the fires of winter and the tightly closed windows with shades down to keep the heat in, shedding its summer vibrancy for the more somber tones of warmth. It will become a place I do not want to leave, a place where it is warm, a place to settle in and rest. At least, that’s what I imagine, for this summer has given us extreme circumstances and I do feel weary from it.

Outside, the signs of change are not as subtle as before, they are showing up under the Tallow trees that are dropping yellow leaves after an active season of hanging their bright green tassels for my bees.

And the animals are different; they have gone through another summer cycle and those that have made it are bigger from the bounty and slower from the late season heat; I think they too are ready to cool down and live in their autumn house.

The black berry briars are a hostile place for the wrens and sparrows now, for the soft safe green foliage is gone and while the zealous mockingbirds still dominate the oak trees, the bluebirds have left the fields and pastures. The locusts continue to be somewhat deafening, but even they are getting tired; we are all somewhat weary from the heat and the endless rain; it is about “time for a cool breeze”.

The end of summer, however, is just as lovely and animated as its beginning. Our backyards are brimming with the growth from the summer season; it is apparent in both our plants and in the insect world, everyone and everything has been busy these past months eating the earth’s bounty and taking in the sunshine.

If you garden, I suppose you are still cutting okra and if you have plenty, I assume you are smothering it to freeze, and one winter day, you will pull it out and put it in a chicken and sausage gumbo.

The bugs have, by now, taken over what is left from my summer garden and the rains have encouraged the ants to move on to the higher ground of my weed covered rows. I give up, I’m done. I saw the first sugarcane tractor yesterday and I am seeing ads for Sugarcane Festival t-shirts and events; we are about to feel festive in Iberia parish.

Anyway, this is my formal farewell to summer. Thank you for your bounty and thank you for the harvest that will soon be, but as they say, “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

Isn’t it funny how the seasons are timed just right; it is as though someone knew how much of each we can allow and enjoy before it is time to anticipate and, ultimately, enjoy the next one.

(You can follow Pam’s blog, “A View From My Garden” here www.pamshenskyart.com)