Finally, the butterflies have come! I’ve been waiting all summer, worrying that something has kept them from my garden. But here they are, the yellow and black swallowtails, at least (not so many monarchs), here just in time to fatten themselves up on the coneflowers, giant hyssops, black-eyed susans, and Joe Pye Weed before they head to winter nesting grounds - I’m not sure where, but certainly not here. I sit on the porch and enjoy their quiet feasting motions, and those of a sudden influx of goldfinches, too, in what feels to be softer sunlight than just a week ago.

We’re at a turning point - the birds, the butterflies, the garden itself, and me. Though the cicadas have been warning us that summer has nearly passed us by, this is the first time I have felt autumn’s presence in the garden. Soon, there will be more seeds and berries for the birds that stay than nectar for the butterflies that now are moving through. But here I am today, sitting with hummingbirds that duel and fuss above my head and gentle rain that falls beyond the eaves. And through the patter I faintly hear the high school’s marching band out in the football field just down the road: “Oh, say can you see?” It’s not time for school just yet, but it’s an iconic harbinger of fall to hear them practice in the rain.

I will not be sorry to see autumn come. I have some garden tasks to do, of course, as the air cools down and the days get shorter. But I am more than satisfied with the progress and the abundance of my garden in the past few months. The light, the color, the birds. And now the butterflies. I will watch them feed and then be ready to say goodbye and settle in to winter and to look beyond, toward spring.