This Cusp Of Time

There’s a cusp of seasons, with moments when you don’t know what time of year it is. Yesterday was like that. If I closed my eyes, it could have been spring or fall. The air was cool and damp and smelled like earth. There were warm currents moving on the wind that took the chill off. It could have been the warmth of returning spring or a dying summer.


The heavy rains lately have made the waters rise. The rivers are running full and fast. Waterfalls stream from rocks. The sound of water is everywhere. It’s the sound of spring and the sound of fall.

bridal veil falls

The leaves have fallen. The bare branches could speak of new life barely starting to bud or the deep dormant sleep of coming winter.


There’s wood smoke in the air. The scent could be from fires to take off the spring chill or flames to dry the fall dampness.


I can stand there with eyes closed and imagine it to be whatever time I want it to be.

A time of beginnings or a time of endings. A time to think of new life or a time to remember life that has passed. In this cusp, I’m free to be in either world.


So many of us are in this transition right now, this moment of pause where we stand, maybe slightly confused, maybe in grief, trying to figure out where exactly we are.

Where we have been.

Where we are going.

We stand in the middle of that bridge between, eyes closed, surrounded by rushing water and rising wind, and wait.

Maybe a little lost.

I don’t know if I’m waiting for what has been, or for what is coming.

icicle creek 010

19 thoughts on “This Cusp Of Time

  1. I feel change in the air as well. The warm chinook wind of yesterday was portentous, like flood or other unnamed cataclysm lay in the hours just ahead. This morning the mountains are draped in fresh snow and my mind won’t entirely wrap around how that warm wind gave way to snow.
    As fall permeates our days we pull the covers up and retreat into dreams of past times, planning for what comes next or just sleep.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I’m heading for hibernation. Not the weight gaining aspect, but the curling inside, the deep sinking into thought and words and books and dreams. That isn’t always a good space to be, but for now it’s time to build up the fire.


  2. Lovely post and lovely photos! I adore this time of year. The photo of the path through the woods made me want to get on my horse and ride down it. Back east, where I grew up, summers were always hot and humid, so the transition into fall was a relief. I felt more energetic and so did the horses. You could go for a canter through the woods and fields and laugh at the horses joyful antics. I recall picking apples off the trees in an abandoned orchard (while mounted) and stuffing them into the backpack I brought along while the horses ate what they could reach.Good times, good memories. Time to go make some more!


    • That path would be a good horse ride. It’s short though, the old road where our old house used to be. It goes to the river. Nothing better than cold apples picked on a frosty morning. Your story brought back memories of stealing apples from an old man’s orchard by our bus stop on foggy school mornings. Waiting for the bus while crunching on apples. Apples since have never tasted as good.


  3. Beautifully written, as always! ❤ I Love to have 4 seasons and really enjoy each of them. They each have a reason. And its good to know the next one will come soon enough 🙂


  4. “So many of us are in this transition right now, this moment of pause where we stand, maybe slightly confused, maybe in grief, trying to figure out where exactly we are.”
    I loved this post. I’m betwixt the two… trying to “figure” out where “exactly” I am! You’ve put this dilemma across beautifully.


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