On the first day of creation, God put light into the world with “let there be light.”
And it still is! 
There is such a light on the hills as must be heavenly! Finally, though we still have warm weather, few frosts, and green grass, the Aspens have signaled their joyous intent, to come forth as gold!
The valley, I think maybe the world, is lit up with the brilliance of autumn, but even that isn’t enough.
The sun shines through the trees and leaves and flowers with power, that comes from urgency, stretching southward, knowing soon there will be snow and cold. It is desperate to shine gloriously today.
I can still feel warmth in the sun, but not like summer. It brings a long, extended perfection,
not so far south as to have lost it’s heat yet.
It is a good time to be a cowdog. I bask on the four-wheeler, as the boss works feverishly to finish her rock wall before temperatures deny concrete. I go daily to the creek, not so much for a dip these days, but for a drink of really cold water.
Sometimes we go to fish or gather rocks, and I wade a bit, but notice the paws go numb quite fast!
I keep an eye on the horses, cows and chickens, usually from a good spot in the sun. I still love shade, but find I don’t need it as much, and the sun feels good on my speckled back.
I take inventory of the many good bones I have stashed around the yard, knowing soon they will be caught in frozen ground or under snow. If I need them over the winter, I’d better make plans now.
We picked the rest of the apples this week, and pruned a tree damaged by the pesky bears climbing for fruit. If I could herd bruins, I think they should be recruited for pruning and picking jobs, but the fat beasts keep breaking the trees!
We planted daffodils and mint around the trees, supposed to deter voles, who are the bane of the orchard. I have caught a few and notice mom doesn’t stop me from going after them; I guess they are different from horses, cows, cats, or every other critter around and I am allowed to decide for myself when they need herding – or extermination!
But there is always that light.
So bright, so pure, so long in its reach back up north. Hanging on with generosity, joyfully extending mercy as long as it can.
We have few clouds, but even they just magnify that light.
I try to memorize the glow of the hills, the feel of this sun, like a last, kind moment before we get down to the grim business of winter.
Though it comes ever later over the hills in the morning, and leaves quite early by afternoon, this light has a gift that no other time will share.
Even a red dog could turn to gold!
