The Wheel: Signs of Change, Part 1., Or, Who Turned Up the RPM?

Did it begin with the Belugas?

The purpose of this post, at least in part, is to continue building on our "reinvented" Wheel of the Year. Keeping awareness of the changes in our bioregion, the passage of time & the aspects that touch us as creatures of Place is key to developing our New Wheel.

Searching for Beluga Whales on the Cook Inlet at Sunset.

 August 21st. While chasing Belugas chasing Salmon up the Cook Inlet, I said to myself, "The Wheel is turning the corner. Quickly." How did I know this?

Highbush Cranberry leaves (Viburnum edule).

The same day, we noted how the Highbush Cranberries (Viburnum edule) had begun to turn colour. Soon, they would begin to smell, a strong, distinctive scent that says, "We're almost ready for picking..." 

• 
  

  

  Autumn commencing on a Birch-lined path.

  August 27th. I paused to take this photograph which struck me as quite telling. Also telling is the ongoing frenzy of bees & wasps as their season rapidly comes to a close. Not long after I took this photo, some harried hymenoptera stung me on the back as I snooped in the cranberry bushes for a status check. Of course, I should have let it rest. Cranberries must be gathered after the first freeze.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

  • 
    

    

    Shaggy Manes, Puffballs & Champignons from the ballfields.

    September 3. After crowberry picking in Arctic Valley, the Little Lad pleaded for an opportunity to hunt for Shaggy Manes (Coprinus comatus) a notoriously cool weather fungi. I was not so excited about this venture, mostly because I knew if we found them, it would be another sign. The boys returned from the ballfields with their bounty bundled in Hubby's hoodie.
    
    
    

    
    
     

    • 
      
      

      

      ARR train returning from Seward.

      September 5. We took the train to the seaport town of Seward. This is a significant cultural sign of the seasons changing. As the tourist season wanes, the local folks have a brief window of opportunity to acquire seats on this train before it is tucked away for the winter. This is something I would like to make an annual ritual -- both a welcoming & a goodbye -- as ceremony can manifest in limitless forms.

    
    

    • 
      Yesterday. I went for a walk, taking my knife & a bag but forgetting my camera. The scent of cranberries was heavy in the air. There were no fleshy fungi. None. In the hard tilt of the late Autumn light, I considered their absence & felt very lonely.
      
      

      • 
        Today. I see that it froze last night. It is almost over. Time for cranberries.