Well, this week we passed the fall equinox, perhaps something few even noticed. It was September 22, and marks the time when the number of daylight and dark hours are roughly equal. It doesn’t make much difference to a cowdog I suppose – we work when we need to, sunshine or night,
and sleep when we can, sunshine or night.
But this is another of those small, imperceptible changes that mark the seasons. Here in the northern Rockies, it is a bit wistful when summer winds down, with maybe a little dread at the coming winter. This summer was perfect – rain, green and growing and busy. And now suddenly, in a rush to accomplish it all before the cold shuts it down.
Winter will be cold and snowy, a little less busy. Mercifully we don’t know just how much ahead of time!
But God’s seasons wind gradually around, blessing us with beauty and small pleasures as they turn, if we notice them. This is that fall time of gentle turning, harvest and gather, so gold and clear we can’t waste it worrying about cold. Yes, the nights hint at frost, and some of the garden plants already gave up to it.
But the days are gloriously warm and sunny, there is still good grass, the mountains barely hint yellow and orange. But soon they will burst out gold and red, all of a sudden.
Soon – not just a branch here and there, but mountainsides lit up!
Some years, we have already had snow by now,
but this one is a gift of an extended Indian Summer.
We have our own seasons, too of course, beyond the prescribed four God gives. There are seasons of summer company – when they leave, it will be quiet again, without the barking dogs. I admit I did stalk over there and let them know this place is run by cowdog control, and I did get plenty of exercise keeping an eye on them all. I ‘ll miss that.
The season of summer graze is ending, too. Cows go back to their home ranches; the horses come down from the high country, to find grass in the creek bottoms, and not interested in hay yet.
The wild winter visitors start coming around.
We covered garden plots a couple of nights and still have tomatoes and peppers trying to ripen, in spite of cooler nights. Who knows how long a harvest may continue, or how many green tomatoes will fill the kitchen windowsills?
In past years, dad would make sure we squeezed in at least one more trip to the lake before the boat was winterized, maybe more.
It is a fine time to be a cowdog, I tell you. There is so much going on that needs a Heeler. I helped keep the cattle drive on the road and out of the orchard; the cows know that between our cattle guards, they better mind their manners!
We picked up a few strays over the next few days, too.
Sprout and I will soon pick the last of the apples from the orchard trees; there are always a few on the ground, for deer, ‘coons and cowdogs to enjoy.
We had a good bonfire this week, roasting wienies and S’mores. 
Just like in the new Spring, there are many new smells when I run the creek bottoms each morning. The grass is wet with dew and cold; I can tell all kinds of wild critters have been by, looking for food and getting ready for winter, just like us.
I lay on the porch in the sun, but notice in my older bones that sometimes it is a little harder to get up after a while in the cool air.
We all start to appreciate the fireplace again.
And so there is more time for naps, in the sun or by the fire. I sleep and dream good dreams, of herding cows, following a horse, exploring the gilded hills.
I dream of being young again, racing around the ranch, times with old friends. Sleep is its own season, one of renewal and recovery. I practice it when I can, on my favorite bed, in the truck, on the porch. Or the couch.
So imperceptibly, little by little, seasons turn. We say farewell to summer. While we prepare, we glory in a northern sun, still generous in heat.
We remember other, maybe better, seasons, we dream good dreams. Relish those seasons of encouragement and hope, they will carry on through the tougher ones.
