The fact they released a 4-LP set of Nick Drake’s first album Five Leaves Left didn’t make it any easier; I was rushing fall. It’s a deeply unpopular thing to do in the Pacific Northwest, to summon autumn before summer’s even halfway through. But there I was, baking my first plum torte of the year, basting the house in gloomy chamber folk tunes.

Down at Mt. Rainier they said the season was two weeks ahead of schedule, with the snow melted out and all the wild flowers in bloom. With no rain here in weeks it felt like deep August with the lawns all golden brown. The Crocosmia—bright orange-red flowers that look like mini gladioli and grow in clumps with sword-shaped leaves—were on full display, frozen fireworks in mid-descent. The Autumn Joy Sedum was crowning out too, getting ready to turn bright pink: cotton candy for the deer (I spray it with coyote urine). And the burning bush shrubs had their first rose tints on the leaves. The lupine were mustering a second bloom and reminded me of what I’d seen in the mountains on my recent hikes. The bees were digging the white clover blooms and wild mint that was way out of control.

You get a pre-fall vibe when the leaves start to yellow and twirl down, but it’s hard to separate what’s bonafide fall and just drought. I get to this time of year with the watering and start to say F it, you’re on your own. I’ve been watering every day now since April. That’s how it goes in the PNW: one summer we went 90 days without rain, then come October it rained every day for 90 days. Off, on.

I’ve gone back to our state park though the signs about cougar activity are still up and it’s not the same, looking over my shoulder like that. Lots of little rustling sounds in the brush, most often birds or bunnies. They have a more elaborate sign now with a QR code to report sightings and bullet point guidelines like avoid hiking alone or in low light (precisely what I like to do); carry bear spray. Yesterday I saw a guy on the trail with a long pole like mine and thought as he passed he looked like an older version of me, then jested maybe I’d gone through a worm hole and seen a version of my future self. He smiled like me. It’s a good thing I stopped doing acid when I did.

I got 16 onboarding tasks from my new agency and 12 offboarding tasks from the other one, mirror images of coming and going. They shipped me a new laptop with a branded case and tote bag, and a stack of Post-it notes with the company logo. Kind of slick and classy, a high-end Lenovo ThinkPad. The last agency used Dell.

You can let a Nick Drake album play on repeat and it’s like letting a candle burn down slow. There is something slightly unfinished sounding and raw about his music, like he’s right here in the corner. That busker whose name no one knows but sounds really good. Kind of just blends in. The songs could be a beckoning for fall or a long slow fade for summer. Both are worth celebrating.

Categories: Creative Nonfiction, Memoir, prose

Tags: Creative Nonfiction, Memoir, pacific northwest, prose