Time to migrate ... time to nest

As I sit here watching the small birds eating at our feeders and the Blue Jays competing with the squirrels as they feed on the ground, I’m reminded that my Dad said we should stop feeding the hummingbirds by early October in order to encourage them to begin their journey south. I’ll wait for the feeder to be emptied of its syrup, and then take it down by the end of this week, the first of October. The warm breeze brings with it fragrance from the lavender we picked last week at Orchard Hill, as it sits perched on the window sill in the vase Lin gave us.
I feel nostalgic, these early days of Fall, remembering high school at back-to-school time; my bad haircuts and overly-matched new clothes, fresh duo-tangs and binders filled with lined paper, my old combination lock going to a new location. And I’m glad those days are past.
I think it was in high school that I had my first Sunday night “dreads” – that panic of the next day that would scare me awake in the early hours of Monday morning, off and on for hundreds of Mondays over the next few decades. I guess I know I’m in a good place when I can sleep through the night, from Sunday bedtime to Monday morning.