Thursday, September 27, 2012


The other night we were listening to some easy, mellow, slightly sad, mostly happy, a bit nostalgic Jack Johnson song.  I don't even know the title (it comes across on my ipod as "track 08 Curious").  Out of the blue, Juniper said, "He's talking about our Osa."
And I suppose that song is how I feel about autumn, this shift in seasons: slightly sad, mostly happy, a bit nostalgic.  Autumn is the season that has brought most of my big life shifts.  I was born in late autumn.  My step-dad died in early autumn.  Autumn brought Osa, my future husband, motherhood.  It is a season still light, still clad in sandals, but pregnant with the heavy seed of winter.
Of all my grandma's paintings, this ^ is absolutely my favorite (wasn't she amazing?).  I believe it is fate that it ended up in my possession.  Autumn.
I love that we live in a place where autumn starts with the mountain maples and lingers.  Our autumn makes a pot of coffee, grabs the paper and puts her slippered feet up.  Love that.  But she's also the season marked by change and with each storm we hold our breath...Will this be the storm that knocks the leaves off?  Will this be the one that drops a foot of snow?   
Just before the autumnal equinox, we had a full-throttle goodbye to summer.
:: Another soak in the springs...
Juniper: "Daddy's a pretty good guy."  
^I adore how Hazel hangs on like a good little primate.  We always joke that she doesn't trust us.  Sometimes, she hangs on so tight she pinches my fat and rips out my man's arm hair.

:: Summer's last wink arrived in the form of my brother-in-law on his way to hunt mule deer.  Juniper helped him make biscuits.
 Also, he brought his raft.  After 14 years of driving past this river, we finally got to float it.  Thanks, M.
We launched right smack in the middle of the girls' naptime.  Hazel was none too pleased until she finally fell asleep in my arms, nursing.  Uncle M made Juniper a nest in the bottom of the raft and between the rocking water and late summer sun, she conked out.
 My man fished and the girls woke up in time to hit a few small rapids.
On the swing, when we twist the ropes and Juniper gets to swinging all crooked and crazy-like, we--thanks to my dad--call it "kamikaze".  Well, after we hit those rapids Juniper asked me, "Mama, did we do kamakazee in the boat?"  Yes, dear girl, we sure did.    
It was a perfect goodnight kiss to summer.  

:: We welcomed autumn with a trip to the zoo and our first good rain since...July?
 The best part: chasing buddies up and down the "Primate Discovery Center" entry.  Of course.
Autumn.  I'm slightly sad, mostly happy, a bit nostalgic that you're here.  Welcome back.