Water Circles

Today is the last full day of summer. Only three weeks have passed since I drove to the Cape to be with Mom for the last time. The weather was full-on summer when I left—hot, humid—and I wore shorts with a light shirt.

Today, it's cool enough to warrant a long-sleeved shirt with a fleece vest, jeans and socks. I've cycled the clothes in my closet and bureau drawers from those I wear when it's warm to those I wear when it's cool. There's no going back now.

All of these changes are repeats from years past but they are not the same. As I renew my acquaintance with my fleece shirts and thicker socks, their appearance makes the interior of my closet seem filled with new again, for a short time at least. I'm cleaning up my gardens, just like I did last year. But this time, Mom's not where she was last year.

I've long held the notion that everything I need to know can be learned in a story told by Lady Nature. And Her most important lessons are contained in circles.

Our shoreline is roughly bounded by two hooks of rocky ledge that swing out into the river's current like two commas in a single sentence. In both cases, these quartz-and-shale fingers push the current out of its comfort zone, and the water circles in response.

As fall approaches and the water level drops to its lowest point of the year, the difference in temperature between the still-warmish water and the cooling air combine with the eddying impact of these rocky commas to form bubbles that coagulate into patches of foam. This foam collects in pockets such as the one pictured here, whirling round and round until is dissipates at the edges of the pool or spins off downstream.

This morning, watching the sudsy water slowly spin in place in the rising sun, I felt reassured. It's coming around again, different yet the same.