I look up from the kitchen table when I hear the whir of a hummingbird outside the screen door. He’s hanging there, looking in, or watching me, or  looking at his reflection in the glass beside the door.

Or maybe, just maybe, he’s saying goodbye.

Last summer, Peter told me he was sitting at his desk when a hummingbird came up to the office window – something they never do – and hung in the air, looking him full in the face, then zoomed off. That was the last he saw of the hummers last year. It was Sept. 15.

The hummingbirds amused us all summer, darting and fighting and zooming around the deck. Now they’re moving south. The bluebirds are long gone, the robins, too. Most of the goldfinches have left, though some will spend the winter. In the gardens, the weeds have won at last, and here and there, trees are turning red and gold. Summer is slipping off, into the cool mornings and the cool evenings.

On the beach a few days ago, fall rolled in on dark clouds and darker water, and the sweet, short sun of a September day. Seagulls turned and whirled and dove for fish, and the beach was empty, the summer crowds gone home, and peace come in their wake.

Today is Sept. 12, my mother’s birthday. Autumn was her favorite time of year, and she would have loved this one, with its brilliant skies and its golden days and its bright, happy promises.

If you’d like to buy this painting, please email me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com for price and delivery information

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This entry was posted on Friday, September 10th, 2010 at 7:09 am and is filed under Carrie Jacobson. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.