sensory time, late summer

“August” doesn’t mean a thing, not really. Or “July” or “September,” for that matter. Summer says something, and late summer even more, but still it makes one wonder whether you are referring to Chronos’ clock or the content of the year. Tell me where we are, when the shadows fall, and what the light is doing, and on whom it’s falling.

Are we at dandelion, after bud but before bedstraw? Are the hemlocks still two-toned with their fresh new growth? Tell me about the jewelweed – cotyledon stage, those two first juicy sprouts? Or is its gooey stem yet the size of your thumb? Are we after its orange upside-down cornucopia flowers, in the midst of springing seed pods? Then the sunchokes must be out, taking the place of the black-eyed susans. Have the acorns fallen? And the milkweed! Tell me about the milkweed. Leaf, bud, purplish-pink flower? Green pod or brown? This will tell me if I need a sweater.

If the fields are covered in milkweed flowers, here is summer’s height. Past the fervor of solstice, warmer languid days, with autumn still far off. I know how quickly to walk, I know to still expect a warbler here and there, I know there are still plenty of swimming days left. If the flowers are gone and the pods are green, then perhaps the nights are chilly. There may be back-to-school sales, and the Virginia creeper might be flushing scarlet, and the sumac too, just at their tips. An errant leaf aflame. But the days are still warm and slow. Brown pods, though, and the crows are calling more insistently. The thrushes have probably left, with most of the warblers. It’s still robins, and the goldfinches will dominate.

Use your ears, too, they can tell time. Stand under a silver maple or a cottonwood. Do they whisper? Rustle? Rattle? Your chosen onomatopoeia will let me know. If the cottonwood downright clacks I I’ll be eating macouns. When the crickets slow to a stop, and the robins are absent in the lengthening evening, it’s time for vests, maybe a hat, and I ought to remember to put the scraper in the car, because there’s certainly morning frost. The full moons have names that situate one in place in addition to time, but so could every individual crescent or new moon or waning gibbous.