Crickets

Every night lately, the crickets have been reminding me of Charlotte’s Web:

“The crickets sang in the grasses.  They sang the song of summer’s ending, a sad, monotonous song. ”Summer is over and gone,” they sang.  “Over and gone, over and gone.  Summer is dying, dying.”  The crickets felt it was their duty to warn everybody that summertime cannot last forever.  Even on the most beautiful days in the whole year – the days when summer is changing into fall – the crickets spread the rumor of sadness and change.”

I love listening to the crickets, and I love this time of year with all its subtle changes that signify bigger ones to come.  Cooler nights for sleeping.  The reappearance of socks on cool mornings.  My sudden desire to work on wintery knitting (my Hemlock Ring blanket; Tom’s Cobblestone sweater, which has been hibernating all summer.)  And the fact that I have a baby who isn’t quite a baby anymore, as of August 17:

Happy Birthday, Lila!

“Everybody heard the song of the crickets…  The young geese heard it and knew that they would never be goslings again.  Charlotte heard it and knew that she didn’t have much time left…  The sheep heard the crickets, and they felt so uneasy they broke a hole in the pasture fence and wandered up into the field across the road… A little maple tree in the swamp heard the cricket song and turned bright red with anxiety.”

Welcome, Fall.