Sky by Maxfield Parrish

The shorter days are nothing to get excited about, but still . . . these September evenings are beautiful. I think the last of the fireflies are gone, and the sound of the crickets is fading day by day. It's sad to see the summer go, but the feeling of change in the air is invigorating. The cool air in the evenings is pleasant, and there's always some drama playing out in the sky.

The other night, it was the nearly full moon, rising ghostlike in the still bright sky of early evening, while the fiery sun went down in the opposite direction. The moon kept getting caught in wisps of clouds as it rose, which only accentuated its beauty. I didn't see the harvest moon last night, and when I went out for my walk this evening I was too early for it. I caught a glimpse of the moon a while ago from my window, and it's already high overhead, framed by the branches of a tree. If I stepped outside, I could see Orion, too.

I've noticed a flock of geese flying about restlessly, as if they're unsure whether to go south or not. When I saw them tonight, they were not flying south but seemed to be heading for the Arboretum on some unknown errand. They can seem a little ungainly on the ground, but in the air, they're very graceful. No doubt they'll be on their way soon to what I hope is a warm wintering spot.

The sunsets have been lovely, especially with the evening star shining so clearly in the quiet part of the sky above the glowing color. More than once this week, I've looked at the western sky at sunset and thought that it looked like a painting by Maxfield Parrish. You know, all those towering, billowing clouds and saturated hues of orange and purple. There is something mythic about these dramatic skies ushering autumn in. You almost expect to see goddesses descending.

A low-flying cloud is gray and cold if you pass through it, and we know the surface of the moon is a silent, cold place (when the sunlight doesn't hit it). A goose waddles while walking, and even Venus would appear very different if we were closer to her. Yet throw all of these onto the backdrop of the sky, like a canvas, and they take on grace and mystery. The perspective is everything.