I sit at my patio table tying string around bundles of herbs - varieties of sage and thyme plucked from my garden in bulk.
It is an autumn-is-approaching afternoon; dry air, hot in the sun, perfect in the shade, wind blowing with a strength in-between breeze and gust.
My work table is a clutter of string and plant matter, a glass of water and a few stray vegetables. Sunlight moving lower in the sky plays and dances among them, directed by the umbrella above me.
Twenty toes are 'fishing' in the sandbox behind me. I am greeted on occasion by the presentation of the bounty of their imaginary pursuit. Their voices too play on the wind. I relish the sound of their activity so close and yet so independent.
I feel the wind playing against me. It is bringing the confluence of seasons. It will bring the change that will in short time move us back inside, to be sheltered against it.
But now I sit, bare feet on cool stone. Hearing and feeling the moments of this season in-between.
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