Canal Tao #01

Canal Tao #01— The Season Changes Quietly

This morning the canal was clear but slightly misty.

There was fluff everywhere. Spiderwebs. Feathers and bits of plant matter floating on the water. Some of it probably left over from yesterday’s churned-up canal, but some of it was simply falling from the trees.

Autumn is beginning to creep in.

Not officially. Not with a great fanfare. Just in little signs.

The nights are colder now. The winter pyjamas have come back out. The wheat has been brought in and the fields beyond the canal are golden and stubbly.

Sometimes there are deer out there, though these days I usually need my glasses to work out whether I’m looking at a deer or an unusually ambitious bush.

The lock above is running. Water is moving somewhere beyond the bridge.

And then, suddenly, a kingfisher.

Just a tiny streak of blue.

I realised how much I’d missed seeing the birds.

The Tao talks a lot about change, but nature rarely changes all at once.

Summer doesn’t finish on Tuesday and autumn begin on Wednesday.

One thing falls away. Another appears. A cold night. An empty field. A spiderweb covered in mist. A bird returning to your attention.

We often wait for the big moment before admitting that something has changed.

But perhaps most change happens like this.

Quietly.

One small sign at a time.

The season does not ask permission to change. It simply changes, and leaves us little clues along the way.