Doldrums
These are the days of the doldrums for me.
The forest is hot and tired from the late summer heat. Most of the scrubby plants are looking weary and defeated — their leaves drooping, browned at the edges, eaten or blighted. We seldom see deer, though we could always count on startling a few when we arrived on spring visits. Turkeys are rarer too. Most of the forest birds are silent now. Only the woodpeckers and the crows are making calls. Even the horseflies seem too stupefied to do more than circle us.
The turkey vultures laze in the sky above. Maybe this is their season, when all of the effort of staying alive begins to wane in the other animals. Several mature trees that leafed out green in the spring have died on the south-facing slope.
My Roundrock spirit is similarly tired. As spring vigorously progressed, all of our efforts at clearing trails and keeping the road open showed how ephemeral our work is in the face of the natural order of things. The shelter tarp sags in the heat. The lake diminishes visibly between each visit. The trees we planted with such hope and enthusiasm have suffered and many have died. A hike of even the shortest distance through the trees gets reconsidered. Yet even the nature that defeated us in the spring is looking close to defeat itself at the end of the summer.
So now we are in the browning time, when the luxuriant growth we couldn’t keep in check before shows its own exhaustion. Many leaves will brown and drop before they have the chance to try on their fall colors.
But, of course, the wheel continues to turn. Milder weather will arrive eventually. Most of the forest will bounce back with its vivid displays. Late season flowers will come forth.
And not too long from now, winter will arrive. The forest will be stark and open — the only green being the cedar trees scattered here and there.
Our spirits will turn, too. What looked impossible or futile in the face of summer growth and summer drought will seem possible and worthwhile. Ideas will bloom in the winter. Plans will be laid. Ambitions will restore themselves. Work will be done because it makes us warm, not left undone because we are too warm. With nature at bay, we talking mammals will get the notion again that we can have some influence in the forest. And so it will continue.
August 24th, 2005 at 8:04 am
I feel you. It’s all I can do just to keep the place from going to the dogs at this time of year. It’s SO HOT. Most of our plats are still very vibrant with life, though. That’s just how it is down here in the nigh-tropics.
The wife and I look forward to cooler weather a great deal. We’ll be expanding the butterfly garden quite a bit (now that we’ve had success with it on a smaller scale). This, of course, means a reduction in lawn. Always a good thing.
I also miss my goldfinches. They should start getting back down here when the weather really cools in more northerly climes. I remember we had about a zillion of them around Thanksgiving last year.
As for the other animals… They do seem somewhat stupefied by the heat and humidity. I don’t see many of my favorites – the rabbits, the raccoons. Presumably they are staying under shade all day and foraging at night. As the weather cools, they get bolder and come out earlier to do theie thing(s).
You’ll know they’re back when I do.
I loved the post, Pablo. It made me feel like I wasn’t alone in the “what’s the use” club. Sometimes trying to work with Mama Nature gets wearisome. She can be a hard lady to get along with, ‘cos it’s always her way, no matter what.
August 24th, 2005 at 8:53 am
Beautiful post! You described so poetically, and accurately, how I often feel in the heat and drought of late summer, and how the seasons turn and we again feel hope and energy.
By the way, I lived in Missouri for about a year (Jefferson City area), and the heat really got to me.
August 24th, 2005 at 10:24 am
Pablo– What a wonderful post about the languishing summer. You describe the last days of August so well. The browning leaves and grasses, all the seeds already dispersed.
The cool winds of autumn will blow in with a welcome chill, and the leaves will turn yellow and crimson. I am looking forward to your fall photographs. I imagine the colors at Roundrock will be beautiful. It’s just around the corner. There has been even a hint of fall already up here in the northwest.
Our migrating birds are now already gone.
August 24th, 2005 at 1:24 pm
As I read your excellent post, even sitting in an air conditioned room, I felt weary, dusty, and hot. Great post, I always feel like I’m walking Roundrock myself as I read.
Our “fall” is so far away yet…we must pass through the crest of the ‘cane season, and then hope that October shows her cool side, not her “lets continue with summer” side.
The leaves won’t change color in large numbers until December, when Roundrock is bare and icy.
Take care.
August 24th, 2005 at 9:05 pm
So, it hasn’t been raining there? It’s been raining quite a bit, here. I don’t look forward to winter, but the cooling is nice. I really enjoyed your post. I could see it as I read it.
August 25th, 2005 at 7:54 am
As FloridaCracker says, we’ve a long way to go before we see any cool weather. It’s kind of like the reverse of Groundhog Day. We should have our own version.
“Let’s see if ____ decides to stay active for another couple of months…”
August 25th, 2005 at 5:23 pm
Very nice post, Pablo, and captures well what I call the “closing in” of spring and the “opening up” of autumn. As hot as it has gotten and as somnolent as it makes almost everything, I marvel at the butterflies. The heat just doesn’t get to them – they’re everywhere all day long.
Soon we’ll have the fall asters and goldenrods, and there’s still a lot of grasses yet to flower and produce their heads. Our viburnum and beautyberry fruits are ripening and when the hickory and walnut nuts begin to fall, I hope we’ll start seeing some turkeys around. And as oldwhitelady says, we do have cooling to look forward to. I do believe I detect some of it going on even now!