There's been a change in the color of the mornings these days. For many months, the light spilling into my room has been a cool blue at 5:30 am. This is when I'm awoken by my alarm for my daily run. Usually, at this hour, the birds have been active and the sun has been high enough in the sky that it feels like daytime. But this past week, it changed. It was as though the mere calendar flip away from July was all it took. Each day, the mornings were a little darker. The wildlife, a little quieter. Out on the roads, running, the sun was just barely over the horizon, casting an orange-yellow hue across the pavement. The golden hour shifted. It is now the eighth month. It is August.
The humidity has started to relent and the mornings are just beginning to feel "cool" again. Of course, it's entirely relative. In the early spring, sixty degrees can easily be considered summer-like. In August, it's downright chilly. Come to think of it, it seems every year there is a distinct pivot - a single morning when I step outside to run and realize, suddenly, there is something different in the air. Perhaps the very earliest indication of summer giving way to autumn? This happened to me just yesterday, and for a split second, I felt a pang of sadness. It's easy to dismiss the acceleration of the summer months as an example of "time flies when you're having fun" - I just wish it wouldn't.
Footnotes: All images, Fujifilm X-Pro2 with Fujinon XF 35mm f/2 R WR