Late Summer Sunday


The prairie is changing. Different grasses and flowers emerge as the summer nears its end. Days are shorter but clear and beautiful. Mornings are cool. Afternoons are warm. The sun gives off a clear white light. The sky is pure blue and filled with gently sailing clouds. Crickets and butterflies are abundant and active. Autumn soon comes.


The old cabin near the woods’ edge sits abandoned except for spiders. I stop there during an afternoon walk and look out from the porch onto woods and a small pond at the bottom of a hill. Turtles are sunning themselves on a log near the shore. A squirrel cavorts overhead, dropping debris and twigs. She is angry that I have invaded her territory, so I move on.


Crickets chirp in the tall grass. The gardens are now overgrown with weeds; most of this year’s harvest is already in. We were blessed with a good yield this year. The sun descends over the land and I return to the house, kick off my shoes, pat the dog, and prepare for a quiet evening.


“We must recover the sense of the majesty of creation and the ability to be worshipful in its presence.” – Wendell Berry




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