Notes from a Time Traveller by Elke Stevens

The land before me breathes its final sigh of summer, caught between what was and what is to come. The leaves, not yet fully turned, whisper the promise of change, as though the very earth is pausing to acknowledge both an ending and a beginning. The days shorten, slowly, slipping toward autumn, yet I cannot quite call it that. The air is thick with the warmth of the harvest moon, high and golden, shining its glow like illuminances over the hills as if reminding us that even in farewell, there is beauty. The last sunbeams kiss the land, a soft warning to our hearts of the coming shift.

Young swans glide on the water, their brown feathers fading to grey, preparing for the elegant transformation when they evolve into winter’s snowy white. But before the frost arrives, the first leaves will fall, as if in perfect harmony, with no rush, no urgency, just in the perfect synchronicity of nature. For now, the birds find their voices, filling the air with song, as if aware these final days of summer must be celebrated in full. The last butterfly flutters past, gold, orange, and black, with no care in the world, a fleeting flash of colour against the green that still dominates the land.

I watch the sheep graze lazily under the hot Indian summer sun, and what I thought was a yellow flower in the distance reveals itself as another one in a million of Scotland’s endless greens. A breeze stirs the water below the bridge, playing softly, as if the land itself hums in contentment. There is no rush here, under the clear blue sky, no need to push or pull against the moment.

My mind, often resisting, now yields. It stops controlling; it simply listens. The body feels the air’s subtle shift, the skin warmed by the sun, gently stroked by the wind. And I, too, grow with the changing season, seeking a heart that blooms all year round. Loving the simple things gentle, soft, without hurry. Another day has come to a close, and in the diming light, I find peace in this gentle transition, ready to move forward, yet still held by the beauty of where I stand.

©️ Elke T.B. Stevens 18/09/2024