September

September is one of my favorite months. It is a time of quiet and solitude. The summertime visitors slack off as the youngsters and their parents prepare for the first day of school. School activities take the place of visits to the lake with the result that we are blessed by minimum traffic of all kinds. In September I breathe a sigh of relief and take in the silence that settles over our patch of the world.

I am often puzzled at our summertime residents. They come out of the hustle and bustle of the city to enjoy the lakeside and more tranquil side of life but bring with them a collection of such god-awful contraptions and noise that for all intents and purposes they might as well have stayed at home. The stillness around them seems unpalatable or unmanageable and they cannot even converse with one another except at the top of their vocal ability. That is to say nothing of their blaring electronics at all hours of the day and night or the racing machinery tearing up the countryside. Some of our casual guests obviously also feel that throwing a beer can out of the car window is cool and not really littering.

By contrast to the summer, September is a quiet month mostly spent preparing for winter. To the accompaniment of a distant chainsaw I cut, split and stack our own firewood until the bins are filled. The oil and propane tanks are topped up and our winter appliances get serviced and put right so as to provide us with our comforts in the winter to come. When all is done and the woodsheds are stacked with fresh cut firewood I know we’re ready. A full woodbin is one of my favorite views and I never fail to take a photograph and mark the fill date on the calendar.

The Aspen trees turn yellow and with the first winds of September their golden leaves provide a bright, picturesque carpet for the driveway. It never fails to surprise me that on one quiet September morning I will wake up to find that the mountains across the lake are capped in white, an early warning of things to come.

The small creatures everywhere dig, climb, scurry and gather to fill the larder for the cold winter ahead. Flights of migrating birds gather on the lake in preparation for a flight to warmer places.

Finally I turn the boat over on the beach and put away the outboard motor. Summer is over and we’re ready for the white stuff.