Almost silent. The dull hum of the warm rain on the canopy leaves the forest floor feeling hollow. Like myself, the fauna has gorged itself for the last time before rations must be used sparingly through the coming months. All species are sluggish in wait. The field mouse pushes through the wet leaves with little energy and effort. Its coat streaked with moisture and debris, it takes a moment to casually scratch it away and wash. The squirrels remain in the trees, under cover. There is little left to do, as the majority of the collecting and packing away has been done. The rest will proceed as needed given the voracity of the weather to come. I tend to wonder in observation, how much intuition is in play during this time and if the different species share an innate memory of the trends of seasons passed. We tend to believe we have some degree of knowledge in prediction, but only those close to Nature, like the native spiritualists, the farmers and the fisherman truly have the awareness. Can we know what is to come? Do we know through our natural tendency towards environmental connection? Consistent interaction with Nature seems to yield access to Nature’s wisdom. Though we cannot forget that we are one and that such wisdom is part of our physical constitution. Nature reminds us when we need to remember.

All the leaves have fallen, beds been laid. It is time to be only what we are, what I am. It is a time for efficiency and camaraderie. I know these days are only getting colder from herein.

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