I relate to the dragon fly for its affiliation with summer, close relationship with water and being a mythical symbol of greater awareness, change and an example of living in the moment. Fortunately, I get to see more seasons than this fascinating insect which only gets to live as a flying adult, outside the shelter of a cocoon for about two months in the summer, much like those who decide that summer is over after Labor Day and impatiently sit around and wait for next summer to start, regardless of weather on Memorial Day.
Yesterday, I put my Triathlon competition gear away, contently, with a smile and a sigh of relief. The sigh was far from the kind of sigh you let out when you have finally filed your taxes but instead a sigh filled with a sense of inner gratification and completion. With the last Triathlon of the season at Wallis Sands, NH, and a great race at that, time has come to alter the pace.
Time has come to wax up the longboard and enjoy the long awaited swell of storms with given names churning off the coast, then drive home with both hands latched on to a cup of hot chocolate and the car heat blasting in an effort to regain circulation in fingers and toes. Only to do it again as soon as possible.
Time has come to run on empty, silent, moonlit streets or head to the White Mountains for a day of hiking before the sun has woken up.
Time has come to paddle out through the estuaries under a pale sun, in solitude, as the season grabbers who gave up and pulled their boats are gone, the bugs are dead, birds have departed for warmer climate, and only the enthusiastic paddlers and those who make a living off the ocean come out: Those of us who appreciate ten miles of visibility in clear, crisp air, the company of harbor seals, and no wake from inconsiderate summer weekend yahoos all in a great hurry to sooner or later in the day find themselves stuck on a sandbar awaiting the next high tide.
Time has come to curl up and read a captivating book, to be creative and to sleep late under a heavy blanket, windows wide open, a cool breeze whispering in your face.
Two days ago, the almanac marked the first day of autumn. Time has come to turn a leaf.